Shadow Hallows
by esama
Summary: After surrendering to Dumbledore's plan, Harry wakes up somewhere elsewhere. Deathly Hallows spoilers, Yugioh crossover.
1. I chapter

**Shadow Hallows**

**I chapter  
**

His fingertips were aching, his wrists were throbbing, weakness was travelling down his arm… his hand twitched. His eyes wouldn't move, his face felt slack, his body was heavy and stiff. He felt numb as he stared up to the sky. The sky was dark and from the corner of his eye he could see something silvery shining. Maybe the moon. He blinked. Something was wrong.

He tried to move, thinking that the problem lay there. It was difficult and painful, he felt weak and tense, but by pushing his weight to his elbows and then to his numbly aching hands, he managed to get into sitting position. His head nearly fell lax against his chest, but he managed to get enough energy to his neck to raise it. After managing to balance his weakened body, he looked down to his hands to see why they were aching.

There were wounds in the inner side of his wrists, many cuts over cuts, deep… like suicide wounds but he had stopped bleeding long ago. Blinking slowly he looked to his left and then to his right side. At both side he could see pools of dried blood. Had he tried suicide? No, he didn't think so. He had… died, he could remember dying… but it had happened by green light, not by self made cuts. And he wasn't dead. Uncomfortable, weak and in pain, but not dead.

Green light? Yes, the Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra… Voldemort. Voldemort had cast it on him, that's what happened… and he had taken it willingly? Yes, he had chosen to die. That had been the plan, of course. Dumbledore's plan. Destruction of the last Horcrux, the Human-Horcrux… him. It had had to be done, he had accepted it willingly… and Voldemort had killed him. And the Boy Lived No More…

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, son of James Potter who had Lily Evans' eyes, best friend of Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, Godson of Sirius Black, student of Hogwarts, member of Gryffindor House, Youngest Seeker in Century, Victor of the Triwizard-Tournament, former Quidditch Captain of the Gryffindor Team, Head of DA, Godfather of Teddy Lupin… just Harry.

He was supposed to be dead. His chin fell down against his chest and he nearly fell over, but managed to catch himself in time. Opening his eyes tiredly he saw a piece of paper sticking from the chest pocket of is button-up shirt. Taking it weakly to his hand, he read through it. It was short suicide note written with horrible handwriting. Just to understand what he was reading, he read it aloud.

"To who find me," he read in raspy voice which did and didn't sound like his own. "Im Harry. dont look for family. parets ded in carrash relativs hate me. no vriends too. liven n streets. no recorts too newer wend to skhool. Im sorry."

He blinked at the note slowly before lowering it to his lap. Not his, it wasn't his note. It couldn't be. He could write well. He had friends. He hadn't lived in the streets. He had gone to school. He wouldn't kill himself. It wasn't his. It wasn't.

But whose was it then? Because his wrists had been cut open and he had bled for a long time, long enough for the blood to dry. He was weak with blood loss, but alive… it didn't feel right. Last thing he could remember was a green light heading towards him. Dumbledore's plan… his surrender, pre-chosen death in his enemy's hand. Not suicide. Never suicide. He had wanted to live… but the plan…

No. His eyes and insides steeled while he pushed the note to his pocket. He wasn't dead. He hadn't been killed by Avada Kedavra and he hadn't been killed by blood loss - he was alive after all, he was hurting and stiff but alive. "Alive," he grunted out and started to struggle to his feet. He was alive and there was a war to be fought. He needed to get to Hogwarts.

"Hogsmeade… Hogsmeade, Hogsmeade…" he muttered to himself while trying to gather enough strength to Apparate. Gathering energy was surprisingly easy even though he barely had enough strength to stay standing. Trying to concentrate onto Hogsmeade was another thing - he simply couldn't do it. Frowning slightly he tried to remember what the place looked but nothing came to mind.

Frowning a bit, he swayed where he stood. Then he shook his head. "Diagon Alley," he muttered and concentrated there was a small alcove near the Leaky Cauldron where wizards Apparated to get to Diagon Alley - No one Apparated to the alley itself because there was a chance of someone standing in the exact place you tried to Apparate to. That alcove he could remember, and concentrating onto that he pushed his magic into working…

And found himself standing in the dark alcove. Coughing softly and leaning to the a bit damp wall at his side, he looked up to see if anyone had seen him. There was no one there, thank goodness. So he stepped forward carefully, glancing towards the Leaky Cauldron…

Or the spot where Leaky cauldron was supposed to be in. It wasn't there, instead there was an old, ruined and clearly abandoned building standing there, its windows broken, door barred and walls painted with ugly graffiti. Too confused to be shocked, he stumbled closer weakly and stared for a while. Was this what Leaky Cauldron looked to muggles? But that made no sense, he wasn't muggle, he had just done magic…

Unable to believe that what he saw was actually real, he stepped forward and tried the barred door - which wouldn't move. He tried to push and pull it for a while before giving in, and staggering to the side to look through the broken window. The building was as ruined from the inside as it was from the outside - filled with graffiti and broken glass. There were broken beer bottles and cans on the floor so it was obvious that someone had been there once, but the dust over the bottles and crushed cans told him that it had been a while ago.

"This can't be," he muttered a looked at the wall. There was a bend, rusty pipe there and in the wall there was a rough dent. Using these as footing, he climbed inside; nearly falling flat against the broken glass but managing to catch himself in time. What he saw still didn't change, the building was still abandoned and nowhere near Leaky Cauldron as he knew it.

"Maybe they enchanted it to keep people away from Diagon Alley. Right, a safety measure…" he muttered and headed towards the direction where the back alley would be - and with it the entrance to Diagon Alley. Except it wasn't there, the door which would've led into the back alley led into storage room. And none of its walls were barriers to anywhere.

It made no sense. This was where Leaky Cauldron was supposed to be, except it wasn't. Leaning onto a wall heavily, he tried to sort through his thoughts. He couldn't find Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley didn't exist. What on earth had happened? It made less sense than him waking up after apparently trying to kill himself.

Fishing the note from his pocket, he read it again in dim light. He hadn't written it, he was sure of it. The horrible scripture was no where near his handwriting and he could get his spelling better than who ever wrote the note. Yet the way _Harry_ had been written was familiar - it reminded him of the time when he had first begun going to muggle school, when he had just been learning to write.

"Not mine," he muttered with a frown before glancing at his wounded, bloodied wrists. The note wasn't his, yet he was scarred by suicide scars. Diagon Alley didn't exist, he couldn't find Hogsmeade… something was going on. "Think, think," he muttered while sinking to sit on the floor against the wall.

Voldemort had killed him, that he could remember clearly. Dumbledore's plan, he had followed it through. He had used the Resurrection Stone to return his parents, Sirius and Remus so that they could fetch him… yes; they had been there but vanished just before the green light. And the light had hit him, of that he was positive, the Killing Curse had hit him… and he was supposed to be dead.

But instead of going where ever dead people go, he woke up here, with his wrists cut open… in a world where Leaky Cauldron apparently never existed. If it had, there would be some signs of it, wouldn't there? Sighing heavily and rubbing his burning eyes, he tried to comprehend what it meant. Looking down to the note again, his attention was caught by something glinting at him near by. Piece of glass - no. Piece of mirror.

Reaching for the shard, he took it to his hands. Trying to not cut himself with it, he held it up to look at himself. The piece was dirty and didn't reflect perfectly, but he could still see himself staring back at him… except he looked different. His hair was longer than he remembered, it was dirty and messy. His cheek bones stood out from thin face, his chin was sharp. And… the lightning bold scar was gone. By the looks of it, it had never been in his forehead.

It was him… but wasn't? Running his fingers confusedly against the sharp cheekbone and then up to the unmarked forehead, he blinked. This was he… but wasn't. "Another me?" he muttered with confusion. Harry Potter who hadn't been a Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter who had lived in the streets, who couldn't write properly, who had killed himself?

Harry Potter of another world?

The mirror shard slipped from his numb fingers and he slumped against the wall heavily. As the shock drained him of his last bits of strength, he pondered weakly how he could've ended in another word and another body. The next moment he passed out.

-

He woke up feeling worse than he had felt before. The floor and wall had been hard on his already weakened body, and as his consciousness returned he only felt the aching. It took several minutes to regain mobility and even then he was help back by the stiffness and loss of strength. He had been weak before, but never this weak. Groaning he struggled to get to his feet. Faltering a little, he gained something similar to balance by leaning onto the wall. Only then, as he looked around, he remembered.

Leaky Cauldron which… wasn't Leaky Cauldron. Slowly looking around he tried to see any sign of the magical civilisation as he knew it, but there was nothing there. This abandoned building was clearly a muggle one. There wasn't even a fireplace there.

The thought of fireplace made him realise how cold he felt. Too weak to even shiver, he merely frowned at the feeling while trying to figure out what else was wrong. Blood loss made him weak and cold, his wounded wrists were aching… and he was hungry. Hungry! That's it, his stomach was aching painfully - very painfully… and he had no idea when he had last eaten anything.

Coughing softly he glanced around in the abandoned building. No, there wouldn't be any food to be found in this place. He needed to get out and… and what? Where could he get food, did he even have money? Slowly checking his pockets he found that he didn't - only thing on him aside from the clothing was the suicide note. But he was so hungry… so very hungry.

Staggering, he headed towards the window he had used to get in. It was painstaking to try and climb out without falling painfully but somehow he managed. It was early in the morning apparently, and there were no people around in the backstreet where, in some world, was entrance of the Magical World. Sighing he looked left and right before deciding to hear to right. He had a vague memory that there were shops in that direction.

But how could he get the food he wanted? Asking would probably be no use; people didn't just give things to strangers for free. Without money he couldn't buy either… and in this state, he wouldn't be able to steal food either. But maybe… maybe he could find something somehow.

The first people he saw looked like ordinary muggles dressed into ordinary muggle clothing. They eyed him crossly before quickly heading away, whispering and glancing. He ignored them, supposing that he did look rather terrible, being this thin, this dirty, this unkempt… not to mention the fact that his wrists were covered in dried blood. Nothing in him probably prompted any sympathy from the muggles.

As he was staggering past a jewellery store, his eyes caught a sight of a watches hanging on display. Stopping to catch his breath and regain his strength, he looked at the watches thoughtfully. If they were in right time - and they probably were seeing that they all told the same time - it was little past five in the morning. The chances of any stores being open at this hour were quite small.

"Hey, you there!" someone called, causing him to look up. A police car had stopped near him and an officer was glaring at him through open window. "Move a long, pal!"

He blinked slowly before realising. He probably didn't look any better than a street rat - scratch that, he was a street rat. The police probably thought he was planning to smash the window and steal the watches in display. With a sigh he turned his back to the police car and continued to stagger onward slowly. After following him some dozen meters, the police car accelerated and drove away.

With none of the shops open, he continued to walk down the street without really knowing where he was going. Eventually, he wasn't sure how much later though, he came to a small park. By that time he was shivering with fatigue and the idea of resting a little was very appealing. Seeing a comfortable looking patch of grass underneath a tree, he made his way there and slumped to sit down, leaning against the tree trunk. With a heavy sigh he relaxed and passed out again.

-

Someone was talking. The voice was soft but somehow sharp - like voice of a boy whose voice hadn't broken yet. The voice sounded worried and questioning, and it came from near - very near. It was speaking to him.

He cracked one eye open more out of confusion than anything. It took few seconds to remember what happened and that he had once again passed out because of the darned blood loss. For one ridiculous moment he felt happy that he didn't have anything, because if he had had then it might've been stolen while he had been unconscious… but then he shook the thought out of his mind and concentrated onto the sight before him.

There was a boy before him, crouched on the ground to get to the same eye level with him. The boy had worried and kind brown eyes and short pure white hair. Nearly albino, but not quite. The boy asked something while tilting his head to the side. Then the boy continued to ask something in what ever language he was speaking.

"I…" the elder one coughed weakly, finding his throat painfully dry. "I can't understand you," he said in rough voice. The boy frowned a little in turn, looking troubled. While the boy thought, the elder one rubbed his eyes with his hand, as his eyes seemed strangely blurry. Only then he realised that he didn't have his glasses - he hadn't had them before either.

The boy let out a cry and grabbed hold of his hand. Confused, the elder one looked at the white haired boy, who was turning his hand around. Oh, the wounds, he realised. The boy had seen the cuts… and now the boy was making a fuss about them, speaking quickly in his strange language, nearly panicking. The elder one smiled weakly to him, somewhat amused by the way the child was acting - it was kind of cute.

Noticing the look he was giving, the boy frowned a little. Then, looking serious, the boy stood up without releasing his hand. Urgently the kid tugged onto the elder one's wounded hand, until the young man finally started to get up. Then the boy started to tug him away from the tree and towards the buildings at the other end of the park. Without knowing what else to do and wanting to see what the boy wanted, the black haired young man compliantly followed.

The white haired boy led him through the park, ignoring the looks people were giving them. Then he lead the elder one over a street, down another, over another street and down few more, until they came to an apartment building. There the young man was led up to the third floor, where the boy sought for keys.

The elder one of the two frowned a little. Had the kid really led him to his home? Looking down to the boy with worried look, he couldn't understand why the boy would do something like that. The boy didn't know who or what he was, he could've been a mad man, murderer, thief, anything… the boy really shouldn't have brought him to his home.

But apparently the boy had. As soon as the door was open, the boy led the young man inside, through short hall to crossing and from there to kitchen. After clicking the lights on - it was obvious that there was no one else in the house - the kid started to go through the drawers. With a sound of triumph, the white haired boy pulled out a bottle and bandages. Antiseptic liquid probably.

The young man sat a bit awkwardly to the kitchen chair while the boy fetched a paper towel. Then the boy was standing before him, rolling up the blood stained sleeves to get to the wounds. The young man decided to let the boy do as he wished, and while the boy concentrated on measuring some of the liquid to the paper towel, he examined the kid's face.

The boy wasn't completely English, of that the elder one was sure. His eyes were shaped differently, and there was something foreign in the general shape of his face. Something Asian. Maybe the kid was from China or something, that would certainly explain why he didn't speak English.

Then his thoughts were cut short. The kid started to clean the wounds - and it hurt. The elder one had experienced antiseptics before, but it had been years and years ago - when he had been under eleven and had hurt his knee in school after which the school nurse had cleaned him up and given him a band aid. He hadn't remembered how much it could sting - and the wounds in his wrists weren't exactly simple scrapes. They were cuts deep enough to reach a blood vein.

Biting his teeth hard together to keep the hiss of pain inside, the young man shut his eyes tightly. If the boy noticed, he didn't let it show as he continued to carefully clean the wounds. It took several painstaking minutes, until the boy then took the bandages and started to wrap them around the elder one's wrists.

When the young man opened his eyes, his hands were shaking slightly, but at least now they wouldn't get worse. Looking down to the worried boy, the black haired elder one smiled and nodded his head. "Thank you."

The boy smiled in return. "Dou itashi mashite," he said before snapping his fingers as if with realisation. "Ara! Boku no namae wa Bakura Ryô," he said, tapping his chest. "Wakarimasu ka?"

"Ah…" the elder one frowned with confusion. "Huh?"

"Ryô," the boy said slowly, patting his own chest. "Ryô."

"Oh, your name!" the elder one nodded. He rouse his now bandaged hand to his own chest. "Harry." He said, and then blinked a little. As soon as he said the name, he felt somehow… surer in this place. His eyes clouded in thought as he realised that no matter how gone Hogsmeade, Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley was, he was still Harry. Slowly the young man repeated his name, re-familiarising himself with it. "Harry."

"Hari," the boy said slowly as if trying to taste the name. Then, with a wide smile he nodded. "Yoroshiku onegaishimasu, Hari-san!"

Though the elder one couldn't understand what the boy was saying, he couldn't help but smile a little. "You, kid, are entirely too trusting and kind for your own good," he muttered while raising his still slightly shaking hand to ruffle the boy's white hair. The boy giggled a little return, trying to half heartedly push his hand away but even so obviously liking the attention he was getting.

Then a loud grumble coming from Harry's horribly empty stomach drew the boy's attention away from the contact. Before the elder one could do or say anything, the boy was bustling around the kitchen, gathering up food supplies in way which looked like he was doing it randomly… which he was. After moment of watching the boy try and start to do what ever he was about to do, Harry stood up and decided to take over. He figured that he, with his unfortunate history of existing as free labour for the Dursleys, was better cook than Ryô.

The kid stepped back hesitantly and then watched with awe, as Harry started to make a simple English breakfast from the eggs, bacon and sausage the boy had managed to find. The thought of soon getting food was enough to give him energy to complete the task and thankfully it didn't take long to cook. When the bacon was crisp and eggs suitably fried, Harry looked through the cupboards for plates. In the mean while, Ryô rushed back and forth between the fridge, filling the table with bread, butter, milk, juice and things like that.

"Itadakimasu," the boy said once they were seated to the table. Then he begun to wolf the food down as if he hadn't eaten anything proper in a while - he ate as if with the hanger Harry felt. Smirking crookedly, Harry decided to follow suit and begun to fill his empty stomach with much needed nourishment.

---

I'm not entirely sure where this thing came from, idle pondering possibly. Even though there are many crossovers with Yugioh characters as main characters (and in most cases going Hogwarts) I have only read one where it was other way around, Harry Potter characters going to Japan or to the Yugioh world in general. And the one I read didn't actually make an impression as I can't remember much of it (or anything at all). I may or may not continue this thought, we'll see.

Sorry about possible grammar errors and reviews are much appreciated, thank you.


	2. II chapter

**II chapter**

Filling a stomach which had been empty for god knows how long with great amount of food wasn't as good idea as Harry thougth. It didn't take long for his stomach to start turning and twisting and him to get the sickest feeling he had felt so far. Then he was fighting down bile which was trying to rise up his throat. Knowing that he _needed_ to have this food in him to get his strength back, he wasn't willing to part with it. Besides, he didn't know where the bathroom was.

The white haired kid, Ryô, looked at him worriedly as he struggled to maintain composure. "Daijoubu, Hari-san? Byobi desuka?" the boy asked while standing up and walking to his side. The young man shook his head, not understanding what the boy was saying, and tried to swallow the vomit down. "Saa, iko," the boy muttered and tugged Harry's side to get the young man up. Hoping that the boy had realised that he was about to vomit and was about to lead him to bathroom, Harry followed.

Ryô did lead him to bathroom. While Harry, forced by the painful lurch of his stomach, rushed to the toilet, Ryô walked to his side to hold his dirty hair up. The boy was muttering something with a bit disgusted tone and while Harry was overcame by painful convulsions the kid avoided looking at him.

When it finally stopped, it didn't stop because Harry had gotten all the food out of his stomach or because he stopped being ill. It stopped because he ran out of energy. Slumping against the toilet bowl with exhaustion, he coughed weakly and reached to flush the toilet - the smell wasn't exactly nice. Ryô muttered something at his side, and when young man looked up to the boy tiredly, he found the kid pinching his nose. Chuckling weakly, Harry tried to get up. "I guess I smell bad…" he muttered.

"Hari-san wa shawaa no hitsyou de aru desu," the boy muttered with pursed lips while glancing at the white bathtub and shower hose. "Hari-san wa warui nioi wo kagu," he added with wrinkled nose, as he looked back at the young man and poked Harry's messy hair with a sniff.

Even though Harry couldn't understand the words, he understood the implication from the boy's tone and impression. "Shower, huh?" He muttered, looking at the bathtub. If he would try in this state he would probably fall over and hit his head, and assign out in a bathtub didn't sound very inviting.

Ryô said something with assuring tone and smile, before tugging Harry away from the toilet and closing the lid. Too tired to even wonder what the boy was thinking now, he let the kid do as he wished. Though he did grow suspicious when the boy started to unbutton his shirt. "Ryô, what… what are you doing?" he finally asked when his shirt was open and the boy was tugging it down from his bony shoulders.

"Shawaa o abiru," the boy said, pointing at the tub. "Shawaa," he repeated, pointing at Harry and then at the tub.

"You're going to help me, huh?" the elder one muttered and smiled crookedly as the boy pulled his dirty button up shirt off. When it was taken, Harry saw that it had some horrible stains over it, and that the seams had broken. The Harry who had tried to kill himself had probably found it from garbage or something similar.

With a look of distaste, Ryô threw the shirt to the laundry basket, before tugging Harry upwards so that he could take the young man's pants off. Swaying, Harry had to take support from the sink so that he didn't fall down. The pants he had on weren't in any better shape than the shirt had been, and they were whole lot dirtier. If Harry had been a bit better state, he might've been embarrassed about the lack of underwear and the fact that he was standing naked before some strange kid, but he was too tired and weak to care.

Ryô tugged on his hand gently and led him to the bathtub. Harry had to take support from the boy and the brim of the tub so that he wouldn't fall down while getting in, and once inside he decided that it would be safer to just sit down. While he was trying to get into at least somewhat comfortable position, Ryô started to twiddle with the water, until he had pleasantly warm water coming out.

And then he turned the water onto Harry, holding the hose in his hand and systematically watering every part of the young man, starting with the messy, dirty hair. Closing his eyes and holding his hands away from the stream so that the bandages wouldn't get wet, Harry shivered and enjoyed the feeling of the warm water running over his abused body. It felt so good that Harry couldn't help but wonder if this body had ever been washed.

"Oh, irezumi. Kakkoi…." Ryô muttered while washing Harry's back. Soon the boy turned the water off and took a shampoo bottle from the side of the tub. Harry chuckled a little while the boy poured a great amount of it to his hair, before the boy pulled his sleeves back and started to rub and massage Harry's hair and scalp. Though the boy was clumsy and slightly rough in his clumsiness, it felt sort of nice. The only time someone had washed his hair was during the times when Aunt Petunia had fought the loosing battle to manage his hair - and that had been much painful than this.

Soon Harry was nearly covered with foam. It took a while, but when he was satisfied with Harry's hair, Ryô searched for a sponge, which he covered with soap before starting to scrub the young man's back and shoulders. Tugging at the elder one's shoulder to get him to turn around, Ryô then continued to wash Harry's chest and hands as far as he could without getting the bandages wet before moving downwards.

"You have no sense of privacy, do you? Or modesty for that matter." Harry muttered amusedly as the boy continued to work with a serious expression. After washing Harry's legs all the way down to soles of his foot, Ryô soaped his hands and gently rubbed his hands over the elder one's face, chin and neck before washing his ears thoroughly. Only after then he deemed Harry ready for rinsing, which he begun immediately after wards.

After getting all the foam out of Harry's hair and body, Ryô took a large fluffy towel from the bathroom closet and started to dry Harry's now even messier but no longer dirty hair. When the boy satisfied with that, he led Harry off from the tub and continued to dry him further, before warping the towel around Harry's shoulder. Then he left the bathroom momentarily, returning with a large t-shirt and pair of pants.

Helped by the boy, Harry dressed into the large clothing. They hung on his skinny, bony frame like Dudley's cast off clothing had, but Harry was nonetheless thankful. After securing the pants with a belt, Ryô reached for a hairbrush which was laying on the edge of the sink. As he turned towards Harry with it, what he wanted was pretty obvious.

Tiredly taking seat on the tiled floor, Harry allowed the boy once more do as he wished. Sitting to his knees behind him, Ryô took the mass of his messy hair to his hand, and carefully started to untangle the very tangled locks. Because of the many knots and tangles, it was a bit painful, but Harry had gone through worse and Ryô only wished well. It was also rather nice to be cared for like this.

It took a long while, maybe half an hour or so, but eventually Ryô got his hair to order. It was longer than Harry had imagined, in mass of odd-length locks, his hair reached somewhere between his shoulder blades and elbows. Finishing touch to his hair-care, Ryô took out a hair-band, with which he tied the hair to back of Harry's neck. And with that, Ryô succeeded in what no man or woman had done before - he tamed the untameable Potter hair.

Despite the fact that he was at this point tired enough to fall asleep right there and then, Harry smiled to the white haired boy and reached to ruffle the boy's hair. "Thank you, Ryô," he said, breaking to a yawn. "I'm not sure how long it has been since I've been clean last time, but it feels like ages."

"Shindoi desu ka?" the boy asked worriedly before standing up. "Saa, ikimashou," Ryô then said, tugging Harry up. Following the boy in sleepy haze, Harry was led to, apparently, the boy's room. While Ryô led him to the bed, Harry wondered why the room looked so empty and desolate - there were barely any toys there, no posters or pictures… only bed, empty table, closet and chair.

Then Ryô made him lay down on the bed. Recognising a good place to sleep, Harry's body started to quickly shut down and the last thing he registered was small body finding its way to his side.

-

Harry woke up to sharp ringing and feel of something jerking slightly in his arms. Trying to blink the blurriness of sleep from his eyes, he had barely enough time to realise that Ryô had been laying in his arms, before the boy had jolted up and ran out of the room. Rubbing his eyes in confusion, Harry looked after him. Soon the ringing stopped, and he could hear Ryô's voice speaking.

"Moshi moshi?" the boy answered to the phone. "Ara, otousan! Hai, boku wa daijoubu… hai, tabete arimasu… Kaerimashou ka? Demo, Otousan --… hai… hai, wakarimashita… hai, Otousan, shinpai suru nai… hai…" Next Harry heard a click and short silence followed, before he heard Ryô speak again. "Otousan no baka!" the boy the cried angrily, before sniffling slightly.

Confused and little worried, Harry slowly got up and, after securing his footing, headed towards the door. Ryô was standing at the hall, facing a telephone. The boy's shoulders were quivering slightly and he was holding his hands tightly in fists, as if trying to maintain self-control.

"Ryô?" Harry asked softly, causing the boy to whirl around with surprise. There were unshed tears in the boy's brown eyes, which at the sight of him broke loose. Ryô sniffled once as his face broke into expression of sorrow, before running to him. Surprised, Harry automatically embraced the boy, trying to keep them both standing while Ryô buried his face to Harry's stomach, sobbing quietly. Looking down to the quivering form, Harry sighed. He didn't understand what had caused the boy's state but was sympathetic nonetheless.

Kneeling to the floor before the sobbing boy, he gently wiped the kid's tears away while smiling soothingly. "Come now, little one, I don't know what's bothering you, but it can't be that bad," he muttered, not really paying attention what he was saying - it didn't really matter anyway as the boy couldn't understand him. "I'm here, there's no need to cry… calm down, Ryô…"

It was probably the tone of the voice than anything else which calmed Ryô down. With final odd sniffles, the boy calmed down, wiping his eyes quickly. "Daijoubu," the boy muttered and gave Harry a smile which still held a hint of the passing sadness. "Boku wa daijoubu."

"Hm," Harry smiled and ruffled the boy's hair. "That's the spirit," he said while standing up. Yawning he glanced around to see if Ryô's family had returned - which they apparently had not. With a frown Harry glanced to the direction of the kitchen, and saw that their earlier meal was still in the table. With a chuckle he cocked his head to the boy before walking to the kitchen to clean it up. Ryô followed closely behind him, and as he started to clean up the kid was quick to help.

Once the kitchen had been cleaned up, Harry finally could give in his curiosity and glance around the house. It wasn't exactly what one would've called home. There was only the very basic necessities there - and no personal items what so ever. In what was apparently living room there was one sofa and one armchair along with a coffee-table, but that's all. There was no carpet, no paintings or pictures, there was no TV… nothing. The hall was pretty much the same, when he thought back to the bathroom it also had only what was needed and nothing more - and of course Ryô's own room was nearly bare.

It made him wonder if it was a "home" at all. It seemed more like those ready-furnished places where people lived only a little while before moving away - or something like that. Maybe the kid was only staying in London for a little while, maybe his parents had a work assignment or something and they would soon return to their home country… that would explain why the kid couldn't speak any English and why the place was so desolate.

With a sigh and shake of his head, Harry glanced at the window. It was getting late by the look of the darkened sky. Looking down to the boy who was looking up to him expectantly, the young man smiled slightly before yawning. Apparently his body hadn't yet had its share of sleep. Realising this as well, Ryô took his hands and led him back to he room where they had been sleeping before.

Once Harry had settled down on Ryô's bed, the kid snuggled to his side. The elder one chuckled a little while ruffling the boy's hair. "You are entirely too trusting, you know? Naïve little one," he muttered as ruffling the boy's hair led into stroking it gently. Ryô smiled to him before closing his eyes and sighing contently under Harry's petting. Smiling gently the elder one give in to his spontaneous burst of fondness and kissed the boy's forehead, before closing his eyes as well and letting sleep take him as well.

-

When Harry woke up again, Ryô wasn't at his side anymore. Yawning and rubbing the sleep of his eyes, he looked around to see if the boy was n the room and if he could get any indication of the time. The light coming from the window indicated that it was early morning. Ryô wasn't in the room, but Harry could hear that someone was moving around in the apartment.

After spending a moment gathering strength, Harry started to get up. To avoid getting dizzy spell, he took his time with it, so that by the time he got to his feet he could actually keep his balance. Rubbing his eyes gain, he headed out of the room in search of the trusting white haired boy.

He found Ryô from the kitchen where the boy was making some toast to himself. The boy smiled at the elder one, and greeted him with cheery "Ohayo!" before turning to the toaster as the slices of white bread jumped up. "Hari-san wa asagohan wo tabe tai desu ka?" he asked, handing one of the two slices of toast to him.

"I have no idea what you said, but thanks," Harry smiled while taking the toast. After Ryô had buttered his toast and decorated it with a slice of boiled egg, Harry did the same. As they sat down to eat, Harry promised to himself not to eat too much or too quick - only as much as his stomach could take.

It was only after he had eaten the toast when Harry realised that he had been in Ryô's maybe-home for the entire night, and Ryô's family hadn't returned at all. The idea of boy as young as Ryô being left alone like that made Harry frown slightly. It reminded him a bit too much of the time back before Hogwarts when he had been living with the Dursleys. He had never really been left home alone - the Dursleys wouldn't have risked it - but more often than not they would dump him to Mrs Figg…

Thinking of Hogwarts and Figg turned Harry's thoughts back to what he had known and called home. Hogwarts, magical world, Ron, Hermione… the war. Harry's eyes darkened and he turned to look way from Ryô. Too confused about waking up in place like this, he hadn't even thought about the war.

But… he had done all he could, right? They had managed to destroy some of the Horcruxes. Only one left after Harry's death was Nagini, but Hermione and Ron should take care of that, Harry had even told Neville so that just in case there was someone else who knew. After that killing Voldemort shouldn't be a task at all… hopefully.

No, the Elder Wand! Voldemort had the Elder Wand! Sitting up straighter, Harry blinked few times. Voldemort had taken the wand from Dumbledore's grave, and killed Snape to be it's master - seeing that Snape had killed Dumbledore he had thought that Snape was the Wand's master, but… no, something was amiss. Something was tugging on the back of Harry's mind.

Snape and Dumbledore had planned Dumbledore's death, crafted it like the Headmaster had crafted Harry's death. So… Snape couldn't have been the master of the Elder Wand; he never defeated the old wizard. It had all been planned, and Dumbledore had died undefeated - no... Something else. When Dumbledore had died, killed by Snape, he had been disarmed. Not by Snape, but by Malfoy - Draco Malfoy had disarmed the master of the Elder Wand, and thus had became the wand's master unbeknownst to himself. And Harry himself had disarmed Malfoy, he had used Draco Malfoy's wand after it because his own had been broken beyond repair…

Harry's eyes widened as he realised that upon his death he had been master of all three Hallows. The Cloak of Invisibility he had inherited from James Potter who had inherited it from his father like it had been thorough the centuries from its first bearer Ignotus Peverell. Dumbledore had left the Resurrection Stone to him in his will; Harry had used it just before his death. And finally, he had taken the mastery of the Elder Wand forcibly from Draco. He had been the master of all three Hallows.

And he hadn't been defeated. His death had been planned like Dumbledore's death had bee, but unlike Dumbledore Harry hadn't been disarmed before his death. He had died as the master of the Elder Wand, without being defeated, meaning that… the Elder Wand's power should be undone…?

Harry felt smile stretching to his lips. _Take that Voldemort_ he thought with triumph. _Even in death I manage to thwart your plans! Without the Elder Wand and only one of your Horcruxes remaining, you're not as strong as you'd like to be, it won't take much from them to kill you!_

"Hari-san?" Ryô asked with timid confusion, looking at him with worried eyes.

Shaking himself out his thoughts, Harry smiled. "Never mind, kid," he said, though if he had had the energy he would've been cartwheeling.

After they had eaten, they cleaned their simple breakfast away, after which there was a short silence. In a house as desolate as Ryô's maybe-home there was very little to do - there was no TV to watch, no radio to listen, nothing to read and nothing to play with. "Soto ni ikimashou ka?" Ryô asked after moment of awkward silence.

"Hm?" Harry turned questioning eyes to the boy, not understanding what he was saying.

"Soto," the boy said while pointed the window. Walking to the window, he pointed downwards so that he wasn't pointing at the window glass but outside it to the yard. "Soto," he said again.

"Outside?" Harry asked. "You want to go outside?" he pointed out as well, and the boy nodded hesitantly. Harry smiled and ruffled the boy's short white hair. "Sure, let's go."

---

The japanese is most probably wrong here and there and maybe everywhere, but I don't care as its not the point of this story. Many wondered about the reason why Ryô is speaking Japanese if he's in London (which _is _where they are). If this chapter didn't explain the reason, the next ones will.

Also, the way and when I update my stories has nothing to do if I have or have not the time. It's about inspiration and my mood. Right now I have the mood and inpiration to write this story and not the other stories. The other stories will be updated when I get the inspiration to write them again. It's as simple as that.

(And **Daricio**, I think not but we'll see)

Sorry for the possible grammar errors and thank you very much for the reviews, they inspired me to write another chapter.

Edit//: I fixed "anata"s into "Hari-san"s xP


	3. III chapter

**III chapter**

Sitting in the edge of a fountain, Harry looked at Ryô, who was running around in the square and throwing bread crumps for the pigeons. The boy was giggling as if without care of the world, apparently enjoying himself. The young man frowned a little while leaning his chin to his palm, finding himself unable to either consent or join the boy's laughter.

He had been following Ryô around for four days now, and had spent three nights in the boy's home. In those four days and three nights he hadn't seen the boy's parents once. He suspected that the phone call which came every evening was from one of Ryô's parents who called to tell the boy that they wouldn't be coming home that night. Ryô was mad and sad every time, but managed to stop his tears within minutes after which he was back to the life full, joy filled creature of before.

After watching the boy for some time Harry begun to realise that most of Ryô's smiles and laughter were faked. Ryô was nearly constantly acting that he was fine and happy, forcing the tone of his voice to be light and joyful. Even right now the boy had that look in his eyes… he might've been enjoying himself, but his heart wasn't completely in it. Harry could only wonder that if the boy was trying to distract himself or trying to act like nothing was wrong.

Because something was obviously wrong. Ryô was a young boy left alone in foreign country, only nightly phone call remaining as the contact to his family - and that wasn't right. How long had the boy been alone before Harry had entered to the picture? How long had been acting to be happy to hide the sorrow inside? How many times had the boy ventured outside to escape the emptiness of the house where he lived?

Ryô was still naïve, incredibly so - he _had_ picked a total stranger from the street as if he was nothing but a stray dog to be cared for. Even so, the boy wasn't as naïve as Harry had thought. And for some reason, the thought was a bit painful. No eleven year old should've been faking smiles to keep themselves from weeping because of loneliness - heck, Harry had had very unhappy childhood but he hadn't needed to acted like nothing was wrong at all - the Dursleys hadn't expected him to smile and be happy during his torment of a upbringing.

Other thing which was rather painful to watch and experience was Ryô's craving for affection. It was nearly exactly the same craving Harry had had as long as he remembered - the craving which had forced him to hold back tears every time Mrs Weasley had hugged him and every time Sirius had patted his back. Ryô liked to be hold and hugged, he liked when Harry ruffled his hair gently and when Harry held his hand - he liked it with all the desperation of love-deprived child. Even now the boy was now and then glancing at him just to see if he was still paying attention and if he wasn't the boy would get a slightly different tint to his light brown eyes.

Harry sighed as the boy smiled at him before laughing joyfully. It just… it was wrong. And Harry had no idea how to make it right. He _wanted_ to make it right. He knew what it was like, being without the love of parents, and he wanted no one to experience it like he had.

"Hari-san!" Ryô cried happily while running towards him. Harry huffed as if painfully as the boy crashed to his chest, nearly throwing them both into the fountain. "Hora, hora!" the white haired boy said excitedly while automatically finding a comfortable position in Harry's loose hold. The boy then threw his last bread crumps at the pigeons which flocked around them quickly. Ryô laughed happily at the sight and looked up to Harry. "Kakkoi, ne?"

"Yeah, it is," Harry muttered, not exactly sure what the boy had said but he did have general idea. Ryô said _kakkoi_ every time he saw something exciting and grand, so Harry supposed that it was something like _awesome_ or _cool_. With a smile Harry looped one of his arms loosely around the boy, chuckling gently as Ryô giggled, this time honestly happy.

"Seeing that you ran out of bread, I think it's about time you and I had home, kid. It's about the time you ate something anyway," the young man said, ruffling the boy's short white hair. Standing up he took the boy's hand to his and started to lead the boy away from the square. With a happy skip in his steps, Ryô followed by his side, holding onto his hand tightly.

Before long they were at the apartment complex and soon at the door of the apartment. While Ryô was opening the door, Harry turned his thoughts to what kind of food he should make for them. His thoughts were cut when they heard a voice coming inside the house. "Ryô?"

"Otousan wa koko ni?" Ryô gasped with surprise as he pulled the door wide open.

There was a man standing in the hall of the apartment, dressed into light brown suit. He was probably around his forties. Surprisingly enough he had similar hair as Ryô, little grey-shaded but otherwise the same. "Omae wa kyou doko de imashita?" the man frowned a little at Ryô before noticing Harry. "Ano hito wa dare?" the man thin asked with sharper tone.

Harry frowned in return as he saw Ryô's shoulders tense. "Kochira wa Hari-san desu," the boy said timidly before quickly adding; "Kare wa nihongo wo hanashimasen."

"Hari-san…?" the man asked while turning to look - no, glare - at Harry. "And just why is an English person who cannot understand Japanese in the company of my son?" the man asked suspiciously. "And you will want to make that explanation good unless you want me to call the police."

Harry frowned, not liking the man's attitude at all. "If you want to threaten me with police, how about I threaten you with the social workers of the child care office?" he asked sharply in return. "What on earth inspired you to leave child as naïve as Ryô alone for who knows how many days?!"

The man narrowed his eyes. "And you would know this because you've been stalking my son, is that it?"

"I haven't stalked anyone," Harry said with a frown. "Ryô practically dragged me here four days ago - I guess he felt sorry for me after seeing me sleeping in the park. Thank goodness he picked me and not some possible thief or murderer." Harry looked down to Ryô, who was looking between them with frightened eyes. Sighing softly the young man ruffled the boy's hair to try and calm the kid down. "Ryô treated my wounds and gave me food; he even let me sleep here. After seeing how trusting he is I couldn't leave him alone in the fear that he would give his trust to untrustworthy person."

"Wounds?" the man asked now with slightly less offensive tone. Harry showed the bandaged wrists silently and met the man's eyes steadily. Unlike Ryô, the man seemed to understand the implications of the location of his wounds. "I… see," the man muttered, now looking a bit unsure. "How about you come inside and we'll talk this through?"

"Thank you," Harry nodded and closed the door behind him. "Um… we were at the park and the square or a while and it's about time for Ryô to eat something…" he said hesitatingly. He didn't want Ryô to go hungry because of the upcoming talk.

"And you as well, huh?" the man asked with cold look.

"Well… not really," Harry said while rubbing his bony neck with embarrassment. He could only eat very little if he wanted to keep the food inside. He had already eaten during the breakfast; if he would eat again he would get sick.

"Hmm… Very well, we can talk while I cook," the man nodded and turned to look at Ryô. "Omae no heya ni ike," the man said, causing Ryô to start a little. Then, with a frown, the boy turned around and walked sulkily to his room. Harry smiled slightly at the fact that the boy didn't bang the door - that just wasn't like Ryô.

"What is your name?" the man asked while heading towards the kitchen."

"Harry Potter, but I think I've come to like the name Ryô gave me," Harry smiled a little while following. Of his many other so called names, Hari-san was so far the most enjoyable.

"Do you know what _Hari_ means?" the man asked. When Harry shook his head, he continued. "It has few meanings, but glass and needle are first which come to mind," the man smiled a little at Harry's surprise. "In any case, my name is Yaten Bakura. I'm Ryô's father."

"Yeah, I figured you might be," Harry muttered. Glass and needle? Well, still better than Boy Who Lived. As he sat to one of the chairs at the table, he looked at the man suspiciously. "So, what was so important that you needed to leave Ryô alone here like you did?"

The man sighed. "It's not much of an excuse, but I was working in the British Museum," Yaten said while opening the fridge. "We had an exhibit of old Samurai culture there and it was so popular that it took all my time. Thankfully yesterday was the final day of it."

So, history was more important to the man than his son? Harry frowned a little.

"I know what you're thinking," the man glanced at him. "But Ryô is a big boy. He likes to act like he's younger than he is but he's already eleven and can take care of himself --"

"Yes, in manner where he takes total strangers home as if they were stray animals," the young man muttered with his eyebrow ticking with irritation. Eleven, huh? Ryô certainly didn't act like eleven-year-old. "And as I see it, Ryô isn't exactly the type who enjoys being days and days alone."

Yaten frowned and turned to him as if lash out with words, but instead he swallowed what he was about to say a sighed. "Yeah, I know that," the man muttered and ran his hand through his hair. "But you don't know the situation, and…"

"Well, enlighten me," Harry said sharply.

The elder man huffed with annoyance and folded his arms. "Fine. I travel a lot. If I'm not travelling because of something Museum related like it's this time then I'm on archaeological dig or something similar - in any case, as and archaeologist I'm often out of country. Before now Ryô's mother, Reiko, was always there to look after Ryô and Amane when I had to leave, so that the kids could remain in Japan while I travelled, but now…"

"Reiko and Amane died two months ago," the man continued almost coldly, frowning at Harry's shocked expression. "This was the first assignment I took after that - I had little choice, I need to work in order to support Ryô. As I couldn't just leave him alone in Japan, I had to take Ryô with me. I rented this apartment for him to live while I was working, and trust me, I tried my best to care for him… but with the Museums there is always something that needs to be done, I usually end up sleeping there because I work late into night and have to continue early in the morning."

"I called him, though. He always said that he was fine and that he could handle himself," Yaten frowned a little. "If he had said that he wasn't fine I would've returned immediately, but…"

Harry frowned a little before sighing and running his hand though the shorter strands hair of front which weren't long enough to be tied to the back. "I guess I jumped to conclusions," he muttered. Ryô's family members had died recently? That was strange, especially id one of them was his mother. The kid hadn't seemed to mourn them at all, hadn't cried after them once… but maybe Ryô was again suppressing things.

"Hm," the man nodded before looking at him with mixture of worry and curiosity. "About the wounds…"

"I didn't try to kill myself," the young man said quickly, uncomfortably. "I can't… remember what happened. I just woke up with the wounds."

"Just woke up, huh?" Yaten raised his eyebrow. "And you can't remember why? Too wasted?"

"I don't drink," Harry shifted in his seat with discomfort. It wasn't like he could say that he had died in another universe and ended in this one, to inhabit the body of another him who had decided to kill himself for reason or another. The man would think that he was not only suicidal but insane as well.

"I see…" Yaten frowned a little before tilting his head to the side. "As I understand you've been around my son for… four days, was it? You didn't return to your own home during this time, which makes me wonder is it that you don't want to return… or that you don't have home to return to in the first place."

Harry avoided looking at the man, shifting again in his seat. The man sighed. "I guess it doesn't matter," Yaten muttered while turning to continue to make the food. "Ryô and I will be returning to Japan tomorrow," he said, and as he was now with his back towards Harry he didn't see the horror in the young man's face. "And next time I come to Britain I'll make sure Ryô won't need to come with me."

Harry bowed his head. _Glass, huh_? He thought to himself, feeling strangely empty. _The glass is breaking now._ He shook his head. It had been inevitable, though. It wasn't like he had thought that he could stay in Ryô's close proximity for ever, Ryô had things he needed to be doing and places he needed to be and Harry had things he needed to do which he had so far generally avoided even thinking. Yet he had pushed the thought of impending goodbye away, immersing himself in the strange fantasy which was to be around Ryô.

"It's… probably too much of me to ask, but…" he looked up carefully, almost pleadingly. "Can I… stay here until you leave? Not because I don't have home to go to, I can handle that, but… if you're leaving then…" warping his hands around him he turned to look at the closed door of Ryô's room. He didn't want to wake up from this fantasy yet.

Yaten's lips formed a strict line as he glanced at Harry over his shoulder. Then his eyes softened. "Very well," the man said while concentrating onto the food again. "But you will be gone by tomorrow morning, we need to leave around eight and I want you gone by then."

"I will be," Harry whispered sadly, wondering how he could say goodbye to Ryô since they didn't have a same language. Soon the dinner was done, and Yaten called Ryô back to the room. As the two of them ate and Yaten, by the looks of Ryô's expressions, told the boy that they would leave soon, Harry's eyes lingered in the boy, wondering if after this day and the following night he would see Ryô again.

After dinner, while Yaten was making phone calls and going through some papers, Ryô and Harry sat in silence in Ryô's room. The boy looked just as sad as Harry was feeling as he kept glancing at the young man beside him. Harry trying to smile to the boy soothingly while ruffling the boy's short white hair, but it had little effect. Eventually Ryô just sought his way to Harry's lap, and wouldn't move from that spot until Yaten told him to go to bed.

And when Ryô then was finally sleeping, Harry thought of the way to say good bye. Leaving Ryô's room, he walked to the kitchen and searched the cabinets until he wound paper and pen. With a sigh he then sat down to write, knowing that Ryô wouldn't be able to understand what he wrote probably in a while, not before someone would either translate the letter to him or he would learn English. But even so, Harry wrote.

When the morning came, Harry gently hid the letter to Ryô's hand while the boy was sleeping, kissed the boy good bye and forced himself to leave - again dressed to the broken shirt and pants he had worn when he had came. However, no matter how he tried, he couldn't walk far. Instead of heading off to do whatever, he lingered in a dark alley just at the apartment building's side, and waited there until Yaten and Ryô would finally leave. Later he wondered if he should've walked away, because the sight of Ryô's tears while his father marched the boy towards the rented car broke his heart even years after.

-

Ryô

I know that by the time you read this letter, much has happened to you. I can't know for certain when you will read this letter or if you will ever read it - perhaps you will find someone to confine in, someone who knows English and who will read the letter to you. In any case, it will take some time and you might no longer miss me or even remember me.

But still… I wish to assure you.

First, let me tell you are the only person on this earth who had been kind to me. You picked me up as if I was nothing but a wounded animal and you cared for me. I know that your innocence played great part in this - you were incapable of distrust - but nonetheless you are and remain the kindest, gentlest soul I've ever met. I'll probably be forever amazed by your ability accept and trust, your pure innocence… though this naivety makes you in a way vulnerable to harm, I wish you will never lose it. It is, among all of your good qualities, the best and brightest thing about you.

I can't promise that we will see each other again; I'm not as foolish as to tempt Fate after all she has done for me. I wish that we could, though; I wish that one day I could come to see you where ever you are. I will no doubt try to make it happen, but future is always uncertain.

One thing how ever is certain and that is the fact that I will never forget you, bright little one who tended to my wounds, cleaned my dirty being and showed me compassion. I hope that you will not forget me either, but I suspect that I will be swept away from your memory by the events I cannot foresee. You're in the age where you will start to become who you will be for the rest of your life, the same I was when I begun my path towards whatever I have now become… you will no doubt be too busy to think of me at all.

Goodbye, my innocent little one. I hope that life will treat you kindly and your trust will always be given only those who will truly earn that trust.

Yours

Hari

---

Sadly enough, I cannot take the credit for the Japanese. Whilst I can understand it a _little _(very little) I can't make sentances - without them ending up full of mistakes. My friend, who studied Japanese for a while, helped with me those, so cookies to her, not me. Also I won't add translation because I'm lazy and because the point of the Japanese is to convey the fact that Harry can't understand it, putting up translation would kind of ruin the effect, I think

Thank you for revies, my apologies for possible errors


	4. IV chapter

**IV chapter**

How long Harry lingered around the apartment where Ryô had lived like lost puppy he wasn't sure. All he knew that it was noon by the time he decided that there was no helping to it and he needed to do _something_. After avoiding those thoughts for five days, he finally turned his mind to the fact that he was stranded in different reality where magic didn't seem to exist as he knew it.

He needed to find out just how different this place was - if there truly was no magic here _at all_. Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade could've been gone, but there were other places. The Ministry of Magic, Godric's Hollow, Ottery St. Catchpole… as the Ministry would be closest, Harry headed towards it, towards the dingy little alleyway where he remembered the broken red phone booth to be.

It wasn't there, though. As Harry stared at the spot where it was supposed to be, he wasn't entirely certain what he was feeling, because partially he had expected it to not be there. Searching the small corner for any sings that it ha d _ever_ been there - and finding none - he wondered which way to go first. Ottery St. Catchpole or Godric's Hollow. He decided on the former, because as far as he knew at least two magical families lived in that little village in his world.

Apparating was somehow easier than it had ever been before as he Disapparated from London near the place where Burrow was in his world. For moment after the magic he had performed, he stopped to marvel at the fact that he had not only done it silently but almost effortlessly. The only thing that bothered him was the fact that in this place, Apparition and Disapparition caused a strange odourless black mist to linger for few seconds around him. It was like the space between Apparition and Disapparition was full of smoke here.

Shaking the strange mist off, Harry looked around in the place he had appeared to. He was hidden in the shades of small patch of forest and Burrow should've been just in front of him… except it wasn't. Instead there was long, shabby looking row house there with patched, slightly concave rooftop and poor painting which was flaking off.

Leaning onto a tree, Harry sighed heavily with disappointment. He shook around for a while to see who lived in the shabby row-house - to see if it was the Weasleys - but it wasn't. Instead it was a family of brunets, some old couple and woman who seemed to be a single parent.

Even though Harry was pretty certain he wouldn't find anything from Godric's Hollow either, he nonetheless Apparated there. Walking through the cemetery he didn't found his parent's graves and he didn't find the grave of Ignotus Peverell. He didn't find the ruins of his parent's house either; instead here was a grocery store where the ruins had been in his world. And in the village's square, the war-memorial didn't morph into statue of his family as he approached it.

Sinking to sit near the war-memorial, he wondered what he should do now. It was painfully clear that the Magical World just wasn't there in this reality. He wasn't sure if the people he had known existed either - Hermione might've been living somewhere as a muggle, but Ron and his entire family were a pureblood so they might not exist at all. Remus, Thonks, Luna, Neville, everyone… even if they _did_ exist like his counter part had, they were all Muggles. There probably were no magical creatures in this place either - no phoenixes or dragons, no centaurs or merpeople… no magical plants, no anything of the sort.

"But I can still do magic," Harry muttered to himself while running his hand through his hair. He could at least Apparate. All other spells he knew needed a wand, which he didn't have, but… all wizards could do at least little bit of wandless magic. Apparition, self-transfiguration, Dumbledore had been able to do all sorts of things even without a wand… if wizards were able to do this like Apparition without the aid of the wand, then it stood to reason that other things could be done also.

"I need to try that, but not yet," he mused to himself and looked up to the sky. First he needed to figure out where things had gone differently and why there was no magic in this place. And, as difficult as it seemed, the only thing which could give him any reference was muggle history. And, if his memory of Hermione's lectures was correct, the best muggle library was the London Public Library.

With a sad smile and without bothering to stand up from the spot where he was sitting, Harry concentrated and disappeared with a gust of black mist.

-

It was a great shock when, after one of the librarians of the enormous library showed him how to use the computers for searching books, he got hundreds of results to word _magic_, even more to the world _witch_ and nearly thousands of books detailing mystics of dozens of different forms of divination. Apparently there was also some kind of muggle-magical cult out there called Wicca who had their mystic charms and strange methods of magic which apparently based greatly on the _divine_.

There were divination methods of dozens different types - telling the future by dust and sand, metal and needles, atmosphere, statues, animal behaviour, salt, smoke, cards, water, mirrors, lighting, wax, rings, crystals, handwriting… there were things like palmistry, oil scrying, pyromancy - which apparently was telling the future by flames… there were things like Ouija boards with which one could communicated with everything between Gods and devils… Compared to the sum of using tea-leaves, crystal balls and astrology he knew this world seemed to be filled with different forms of divination.

There were also many books on things like empathy, telepathy, telekinesis, clairvoyance, -audience, -sentience and who knows what more. There were healing arts Harry had never heard of like meditation, yoga, acupressure and -puncture, shiatsu, chakras, Kundalini and crystal healing…

In his world _none_ of these things existed in the muggle world, either at all or they had been probably hidden by the magical world. The sheer amount of knowledge was staggering; in a way there was more magical knowledge here than Harry had encountered back home. Yet… how magical was this knowledge? To Harry it seemed plausible enough, but he was a born wizard… and as far as he had so far seen, there were no other wizards in this world. So, all this knowledge of magic could be nothing but fictional fantasies of the Muggles.

First Harry wondered if he should go about trying to see if any of these things were real by himself, but then he read about the Wicca shop which was in London. So, before starting with anything, Harry decided to visit the Wicca shop to see what it was like - if it was real at all. As Harry had never seen the shop before or visited the general area it was in, he couldn't Apparate but thankfully it was only half an hour's walk away anyway.

The shop was small and nothing like the magical shops Harry remembered from home - it wasn't small or stuffy, the air wasn't heavy with neither dust nor smoke, and it most certainly wasn't shady. Instead it was full of light, clean air, and even though it was small it was furbished in a way which made it seem spacey. One wall was given to books, near the counter there was a racks where charms and necklaces hung in perfect order and in the middle of the shop there was ring of tables full of stones, crystals, small bottles and other random items. As Harry let his eyes wander, he noticed that there were large wooden plates hanging from the walls, letters, numbers and symbols drawn to them. There were quite many plates with five-pronged stars in them drawn in various fashions also.

"Are you interested in Ouija boards or Altars?" Soft voice asked from the counter, causing Harry to snap his eyes to that direction. A middle aged woman with long straw-blonde hair stood there with a calm smile.

"Altars?" Harry asked to hide his surprise.

"Yes," the woman said and motioned at the plates with the stars. "There are many kind of altars people use, the round ones I have on display here are possibly among the simplest, yet oldest forms of altars. I also have heavier altar-tables in the storage room and some Triquetra altars if you're interested."

"Ah…" Harry rubbed his neck uncomfortably. Altar? Like those things in muggle churches? What were you supposed to do with a thing like that, pray on it? And what on earth was Triquetra? "Let me think on it for a moment?" he asked carefully. It wasn't like he had any money to buy anything anyway, it was best to stall for time so that he could get a proper look on the shop.

"Of course," the woman smiled serenely.

A bit nervously, Harry stepped forward. Though the items in the tables looked interesting, the part of him which had spent long hours with Hermione in Hogwarts library ushered him towards the bookshelves. The books there were nothing like the books in Hogwarts library or in Flourish and Blotts. These weren't leather covered, yarn bound tomes with parchment pages, but hard cover books made of paper by muggle means. Mass manufactured books which had been made by machinery.

Taking one to his hand and flipping it open, Harry smiled with partial sadness and partial amazement. Though the book didn't have that old magical feel as the books he usually handled had, it was obvious that it had more information in it. The text was small and easy to read - nothing like the hardwiring from most of the books of Hogwarts. The sharp printed pictures in the pages gave a clearer image than the hand-drawn ones from those old books. These images had colour in them too; most of their schoolbooks had only had one ink colour in them - black.

For a moment he wondered to himself what it would've been like, if instead of separating the Magical and Non-magical had lived in harmony. Would've they had books like this in Hogwarts instead of those old tomes? Would've there still been things like muggle-baiting and blood prejudice? Then he shook his head and closed the book. It was useless to think about things which would never come to reality.

Turning from the books, Harry looked at the tables, before stepping forward curiously. In a way it was like seeing something in second-hand stop in Diagon Alley. The items in the table seemed to be completely random - crystals, stones, dried herbs, leather satchels, pieces of bones and wood with strange symbols drawn in them… then there were few small stone tablets with all kinds of symbols and images carved in them.

Curious to see if tablets were as smooth as they looked like, Harry reached his hand forward - only to quickly pull it back when he felt something sting his fingertips like a spark. Magical spark. Shocked and excited because of the magical reaction, Harry stepped closer to see which one of the tablets had stung him. It wasn't the one with pentagrams, or the one with strange moon symbols, or the one with stars and it wasn't the one with rune figures…

It was the one with Egyptian-styled images - three semi-human-like figures were carved to it in simple yet fascinating manner. When Harry took it to his hand, the tablet felt warm in his palm, pulsing slightly - and definitely magical. "Excuse me," he looked up to the woman, showing the small tablet. "Could you tell me about this one?"

The woman stepped forward curiously to see what he was holding. "Ah, the Three Gods. These three are actually the only Gods I let into my shop, all other Goddesses," she smiled a little and motioned the tablet. "These are the Gods Ra, Osiris and Set from ancient Egypt. This is Sun God Ra in the middle, he's easily recognised of the falcon-like form and the sun he carries over his head. Osiris, who stands to his left and carries the symbols of the pharaoh, is the God of life and death… and finally Seth here at Ra's right is the protector of Ra, his guardian and the God of the deserts…"

Harry frowned a little. He couldn't remember hearing anything like this in his original world - but he supposed that it could be same here and there. He could remember seeing Egyptian hieroglyphs and pictures in History of Magic class, Hermione and Ron had showed him few of them too, and they were the same as these carvings… yet back there they had seemed nothing more than dead and nearly forgotten cult and religion. Wizards didn't have religions; they had cut all binds to any religions long ago so that they wouldn't be persuaded into religious wars…

Why was this tablet of three Egyptian Gods warm in his hand? It was obviously reacting magically, but was it that the images were magical, the meaning… or was it simply the stone? No, it couldn't be the stone, because the carving seemed to glow in front of his eyes.

"Do you want the tablet?" the woman asked kindly.

"I…" yes, he wanted the tablet if not for any other reason then to solve the mystery as to why it was magical. But… "I don't have the money to pay for it." Harry shook his head and was about to place the tablet down reluctantly.

The woman smiled to him gently and took hold of his hand before he could drop the tablet. Closing her hand over Harry's, she strengthened his hold on the tabled. "It's free," she said soothingly. "I don't now what has led you to this point or what you are looking for, but I can feel that you are special and that this tablet wishes to go with you. You are meant to have it."

Harry looked at her uncertainly. She was giving a certain wizard-like vibe, but in a strange way it was more mysterious than even the freaky eyes and heavy air in the shop of Ollivander the wand maker. "Are you sure?" he asked carefully.

"I'm sure. It's yours, free of charge," she assured. "Just next time you visit this shop, remember to bring something with you here."

"Something?" Harry blinked with confusion

"A totem, a gift, a memory, a story," she chuckled while walking back towards the counter. "You were chosen by the Egyptian Gods… so I suspect that your future journey will be interesting. I would wish to hear of it, sometime. I also would wish you the luck and blessings of the Goddess but your Gods might take offence of that," she smiled.

"I… see," Harry mumbled, not really understanding at all. His Gods? Looking down to the tablet, he held it closer. Gods or not, the tablet was like piece of home - because truly, while he had always said that Hogwarts was his home, he had always loved Magic first. "Thank you," he said softly with a bow-like deep nod, feeling a little better and less hollow.

"Be on your way and safe journey," the woman said softly and with another nod Harry headed out of the shop.

-

But as nice as it was to possess something magical, the tablet didn't offer him much comfort during the cold night or food when he was hungry. Without money, without anyone to ask from and with too much pride to beg or search other people's garbage, Harry had little options as to how get something to eat. He decided to do what had been forbidden by laws in his home - use his magic in muggle area. It wasn't like here were Aurors here to catch him or ministry to punish him.

It was entirely too easy too. He simply walked into grocery store, took a basket and started to fill it up with random foodstuff like normal people… and then, making sure no security cameras were on him, he disappeared taking the basked with him. After having satisfying his weak stomach, he wondered if he could do the same with clothing. Proper pants, shoes and maybe a coat sounded nice… but he decided that he didn't _really_ need them, as in he could survive without them at least for a little while.

Only use magic when it's absolutely necessary, he decided to himself while heading towards the London Library to read a bit more about the occults and magic of this world - as well as something about the Egyptian Gods of his tablet. After picking up books from the shelves and finding a spot to read them, he pushed away other thoughts and for few hours just concentrated onto learning.

He was, after about three hours, interrupted by an elder librarian. "This is the second day you've visited here," she mused. "You read through tons of books… why don't you borrow any of the books when you read so much? Wouldn't it be easier to read these in home?"

"I don't have a library card," Harry shrugged. He didn't a home to read in either. With a frown he turned his eyes to the book he was reading - enormous two-thousand word encyclopaedia about Egypt. Nor he had any money to get either - which brought his mind to the unpleasant thought that he needed to figure a way for himself to _live_ - to get money, home and things like that.

"Then we must get one for you," the librarian said lightly. "It's just a simple matter of filling a form."

"No, it's alright," Harry smiled. "I'll manage like this, for a while at least. I'll see about getting a library card later."

"Very well, but if you change your mind there are forms at the counter," the woman nodded with a troubled look on her face before walking away. Harry sighed and concentrated back to the text, pushing the thoughts of uncertain future away once more.

Later that day, when he was idly walking from the library towards the park where he had slept the previous night, he walked pass a building where a large text in the window proudly proclaimed "Education and Career Counselling". Smaller text underneath the larger text told that the office offered help to those who had unfinished education.

Harry stopped to look at the window. It was almost like a sign or something. By muggle accounts, his education had ended in the age of eleven, though in this world there was no record of his time in that little school in Surrey. Thinking back to his schooling, he remembered how poorly he had done - he had had to downplay his abilities so that he wouldn't outshine Dudley. After that he had gone to Hogwarts, where most time he had been too confused to do anything right…

Rubbing his hands over his blurry eyes, Harry sighed heavily. He needed a place to stay. To get that he needed money so that he could pay the rent and all that. To get money he needed a job. To get a job he needed occupation… and to get occupation he needed education. Yeah, this office was like a sign.

Glancing towards the doors, he frowned a bit. The office had closed hours ago, but it would open again in the morning around seven. With a determined nod, Harry continued on his way towards the park and decided to visit the office first thing in the morning.

-

Harry looked down to the stone tablet which was resting in his hands. It was again warm in his hands, as if offering him its support and assurance. Looking up from the tablet, he looked at the education office. _Come on Potter; use that Gryffindor courage of yours…_ he muttered to himself in his mind, before taking a deep breath and stepping forward. Embarrassed about the clothing he was wearing, the fact that his hair had ended up messy again, and the fact that he had no other place to put the table than his hand, he stepped inside.

The cleanness and brightness of the office seemed to mock him. The floor, the walls and the ceiling were all pure white and a so was the counter, behind witch a middle aged man stood. The man looked at Harry curiously, taking in the young man's ruffled appearance but not saying anything to it. "Can I help you?" the man asked.

"The window said that you offered help with schooling and stuff…?" Harry asked carefully.

"Yes, that is what we do," the man nodded and motioned Harry to come closer. "What kind of help do you need? Choosing your college, maybe?"

"…actually…" Harry shifted uncomfortably. "I… I don't have _any_ education at all."

The man blinked with surprise. "None at all?" he asked with shock.

"Well, I know how to read and write, little bit of calculus, some history and stuff, but…" twiddling the tablet in his hands uncomfortably Harry looked away. He had six years worth of magical education, but what good would that do to him here? None.

"I… see," the man muttered, looking a bit troubled. "Where are your parents?"

"Dead," Harry muttered flatly.

"Other guardians?"

"None that I know of, I think they dumped me to streets," now staring down to the tablet, Harry felt himself shrink slightly. This was so humiliating.

"I… see…" the man said slowly, looking at Harry with shock and understanding. "Hmm… How about I call someone else to take the counter and we'll talk in my office, hm?" the man took the phone of the counter and called for someone with it, before motioning Harry to follow him. Uncomfortably Harry did so, hoping to gods that he had made the right decision coming here and revealing his weakness to total stranger.

They soon came to a small office, where the man closed the door after them to get some privacy. "How about you take a seat?" the man asked, taking a seat himself behind desk. "My name is Gerald Aldwyn; I'm an educational, psychological and occasionally occupational counsellor."

"My name is Harry," the young man said while taking a seat. "I think my surname is Potter, but I'm not absolutely sure…"

"Well then, could you give me your address and phone number?" the man asked. When Harry couldn't answer to that, he looked up with shock. "You have none? I guess you don't know your social security number either," the man mused with a troubled expression while taking out a notebook and starting to write something down. "Well, we'll think about that later. You said that you don't have any education at all… no primary education either? How do you know how to read and calculate then?"

"I've learned on my own, I guess," Harry said uncomfortably.

"I see," the man nodded while writing something down again. Then he leaned back to look at Harry thoughtfully "Hmm… this sounds like troubling case indeed…" he tapped his chair's armrest with his fingers or a moment, before coughing. "What made you come here?" he asked then.

For a moment Harry wondered if he should say that he simply wanted a way of earning money so that he could live in a house and buy his food like normal people… but that wasn't entirely inspirational, was it? "I want to change my life," he said then. "I'm sick of living in the streets… sick of living like street rat."

The man nodded in understanding. "How old are you? Do you know your birthday?"

"Thirty-first of July… I'll be eighteen this summer," Harry answered.

"So you're soon adult too," Mr Aldwyn nodded thoughtfully. "Making this a case of unfinished education of an adult rather than minor… hmm…" turning from Harry he shifted his attention to his computer and started to do something with it. "I'll print you a standard test which we use to determine what you know. While you fill it out, I'll talk to some of my co-workers and we'll see what well come up with, hm?"

Harry nodded, twiddling the stone tablet in his hands with nervousness. Soon one of the machines started to make noise and push out papers, which were soon tied together by a paper clip. After Mr Aldwyn had given Harry a pencil, the man left him to his own privacy to fill the form. With a sigh Harry put the tablet to his lap and started to read through the test. Surprisingly, the questions didn't seem all that hard. Feeling a little more confident, Harry started to write while the tablet glowed with comforting warmth.

When Mr Aldwyn returned, Harry was done and had been passing the time by examining the tablet once more. "You're already finished? That was fast," the man smiled while taking a seat. "What is that?" the then asked, looking at the tablet curiously.

"Only thing I own," Harry smiled grimly, and held the warm stone against his chest while Aldwyn read through the test.

"Well then… I need to check this later, but this doesn't seem as bad as I thought," the man muttered with an accepting nod, before glancing at Harry. "Do you have anything that might interest you, something you would wish to pursue as a career?"

"Um, I don't know… I guess want to know more about ancient Egypt and I want to lean Japanese," the young man shook his head. He wanted to know about Wicca and occults too, but that was probably better left unsaid. "That's about it."

"Ancient Egypt and Japanese?" Aldwyn seemed surprised. "Why?"

"Ancient Egypt because of this," Harry held the tablet up so that the man could see what was carved in it. "And Japanese because some day I want to talk to a… friend in his own language."

The man nodded with a little smile. "I see… well then, let's see what we can do, hm?"

---

Kinda boring chapter but it had to be written. Thank you all for our reviews and again my apologies for possible errors.  



	5. V chapter

**V chapter**

"Harry, Harry," the black haired homeless young man was woken up by the excited voice of Mr Aldwyn. Shaking up from his pleasant dream, it took Harry a moment to remember that he was in the coffee room of the office of Educational Counselling, lying on the bumpy couch. The counsellors had let him sleep there after finding out that he normally slept in the park.

"Harry, I have some good news for you," Aldwyn said while helping him to sit. As Harry quickly took a firmer hold of the stone tablet before it would fall, the counsellor sat beside him. "We found your birth records."

Snapping his attention to the man, Harry blinked. "You… that _is_ good news," the young nodded while yawning and running his hand through his hair. Birth records meant social security number which he needed for many things - most those of things vitally important for his living.

Aldwyn showed him a photocopy of the birth certificate. "Your parents were James Potter and Lily Potter, nee Evans. You were indeed born in the thirty first of July," the man showed the record, where Harry found some new information about himself - how much he had weighted when he been born, how tall he had been, what was his blood type, the exact time of his birth…

"That's not all," Aldwyn said excitedly. "We ran a thorough search on your parents. They were apparently killed in car crash when you were about thirteen months old. We aren't _absolutely_ certain how you ended in the streets after, but we are certain of one thing. You have over sixteen years' worth of child allowance in the bank account which was set to your name after your parents passed away. That's over two hundred months…"

Harry blinked slowly before turning suspicious. "_How_ much is child allowance per month?"

"For you it was hundred and nine pounds," Aldwyn grinned widely. "Smallest of possible amounts because your parents were well off, but when you multiply that with two hundred…"

"T-twenty thousand - I have _twenty thousand pounds_?!" Harry gasped. In galleons that would make… at least four thousand galleons. It wasn't as much as the wealth he had possessed in his own world, but it was still a whole lot. "Holy…!"

"I think we can safely say that your days of living in the streets are over," Aldwyn grinned widely. "I suggest you to be very careful with this money, though. Savour it, safe it and don't get into shopping sprees. You have a long way to go before you can start earning your own money, so…"

Harry nodded vigorously - after living with Dursleys most of his life, he knew to not live like them. Looking at the elder man, he turned a bit nervous. "Could you, hm… help me? I've never…" he had never bought apartment, he hadn't even bought proper clothing for him - aside from buying Hogwarts ropes which were a different thing.

"Of course," Aldwyn patted his back. "Everyone in the department wants to help you. You've became some of a collective project for all of us. Few are already looking for suitable cheap apartments for you in the 'net. Shall we go to take a look at what they have found?"

Harry nodded and followed the man from the coffee room, clutching to the tablet to his chest half nervously and half excitedly. The tablet of Three Gods glowed warmth in return.

-

The apartment Harry eventually picked was a small two-room apartment in a sixth floor, only including kitchen, bedroom mixed with living room and a bathroom. Not only was it cheap because it was small, but it was partially furbished already, and had a bed, table and a chair, so Harry didn't need to start to buy furniture yet. Only thing he needed to get were necessities like bed sheets, towels, cooking supplies, dishes… that sort of thing.

Aldwyn and the others form the office were great help there. As counsellors for students and such, they knew all sorts of little ways how to make living _cheaper_. In their guidance, Harry bought most of the things he needed in his small home from second-hand stores and such - his clothing were all from there. Sure he needed to buy some of his things brand new - like glasses and bed sheets - but if he could get them second-hand he would buy them second-hand. Soon his home was ready - and though it wasn't all that grand or beautiful home, it was more than enough for him.

Not soon after Aldwyn decided the best way to go about Harry's lacking education. Because Harry's knowledge was a bit scattered, he couldn't join any school anytime soon, so instead Harry would be taking classes in rather random fashion to build his knowledge. Math, Chemistry, Physics, English, Geometry, History, Biology… courses like that were the ones he needed to take, but out of personal curiosity - and preference - he started to take Japanese and Astronomy. He also joined a Shiatsu and Yoga after reading of their _magical_ qualities in the library.

After that life set into comfortable pattern and randomly studying everything. In between of all the course taking Harry got the library card and started to borrow books from the London Library - tons of them. It was strange how, after the dislike for studying he had felt back home, here it seemed not only necessity but a certain pleasure. Maybe it was the lack of teachers and stress of OWLs and tests like such, but Harry found himself more often than not most comfortable when he had a big book in one hand while other traced the outlines of his tablet. Mostly he thought he liked it so much was because it reminded him of the good days back in Hogwarts, when he had been studying with Ron and Hermione in Hogwarts Library.

It wasn't until he had lived in his apartment for a week, when he found something shocking. While taking a shower, he had noticed something black clinging onto his back. At first he thought that it was a stain he hadn't managed to scrub off previously - something that lingered in him after living in the park… but it was way too dark. Taking his new square-shaped glasses, he examined the black thing further.

And found that he had a tattoo in his back. It was obviously from the time of the other Harry, before the one had killed himself. It was some sort of gang tattoo and Harry hated it with the first sight. In his back, bold although rather faded letters proudly proclaimed the word _freak_.

"Bloody hell," Harry muttered while staring at the tattoo through the mirror. What had been _with_ the other him, what on earth had urged the one to get a tattoo like that? Harry grimaced and decided that the tattoo _had_ to go and _soon_.

There was two ways of getting rid of unwanted tattoo. One was surgery - which was expensive and occasionally left scars. Other was to get another tattoo over it. Because tattoo Harry had was poorly made and faded, he decided to get another tattoo over it - it was still somewhat expensive, but whole lot less than removing the tattoo was.

But what kind of tattoo to get? It would be branded on his skin for the rest of his life, so it had to be something he was alright with - more than alright. He'd have to be able to look at that picture ten, twenty, thirty years from now and still like it… something he would never want to get rid of.

Wondering about this particular problem, Harry found himself once more holding the tablet in his hand, tracing his fingers along the carvings. Looking down to his he realised with a shock, that even though he now had money, he hadn't even _once_ thought of going back to that Wicca shop and paying for the tablet. Disgusted with himself, he grabbed his shoulder bag, rugged the tablet gently inside checked that he had his keys and walled and then Disapparated from the spot, leaving a curl of black mist behind.

After Apparating in an alleyway near the shop, Harry quickly headed for the shop, happy to see that it was still open. He opened the shop door with certain haste and… was assaulted by strange calm which rushed over him like heavy breath of warm air.

There was soft music playing in the store, quiet melody played by flute and some kind of exotic string instrument. Harry didn't pay much attention to it, he was too enthralled by the feeling he was given by the music. It felt like he had entered the boys' silent dormitory after being in the noisy, crowded common room for a while - or like sitting in a compartment of Hogwarts Express after rushing through packed platforms. It was like calm belt in midst of noise, hurrying and surplus of everything which made the daily life.

The feeling was so sudden and so relaxing that Harry found his eyes watering

As his excitement calmed into mellow feeling of enjoyment and joy Harry looked around in the shop. It was dimly lit this time with and incense sticks were slowly burning here and there in the shop, filling it with calming scent. The shop keeper was standing at the circle of tables, holding a small satchel in her hand.

"Oh," she sounded surprised. "I thought I had locked the door."

"You're already closed?" Harry asked, disappointed. "I'm sorry I barged in like that, I didn't mean to interrupt… I can come back tomorrow."

"No, no. It's alright, come in," the woman smiled quickly, understandingly. She motioned Harry to come closer. "I was just about to purify and bless the shop, but that can wait a moment or two."

"Alright," Harry nodded and hesitatingly stepped into the calm belt which was the Wicca shop. "I just… I guess I came to pay back for the tablet. Since you gave it to me, I got some money and… well, I want to pay back…" he pulled the tablet from his bag and looked at it with fondness he had only felt for three items before - his Invisibility Cloak, Firebolt and Marauder's Map. "The tablet has been… a great comfort for me."

"I'm glad," the shop keeper smiled while placing the small satchel down to the table. "I'm not comfortable with taking payment for it now, though. The tablet is already yours."

"But it feels like…" Harry shifted uncomfortably. He didn't like getting things for free. "I'm not… I… want to pay back somehow."

The woman chuckled and walked to the counter. "I can see that you're new to this, so I will explain something very important to you. We Wiccas have a rule for things like these - it's called the Rule of Three. _This lesson well, thou must learn, Thee only gets what thou doust earn! Ever mind the Rule of Threes, Three times what thou givest, returns to thee!_" Smiling to Harry's confused and amazed expression, she leaned onto the counter. "It means that what energy we give to the world returns to us three fold - good or bad. It is _not_ the reason why I give when I give; I give because I _want to_… but never think that kindness you receive or give goes unrewarded."

Seeing that Harry didn't completely believe him, she smiled slightly. "Can you think of something you were given, a gift or show of kindness… something someone gave you even though they didn't have to?"

Harry blinked. The Marauder's Map was the first thing which came to his mind. Fred and George Weasley had given it to him when he hadn't had the permission but been desperate to get to Hogsmeade. They hadn't needed to give it, they could've just kept silent about it and go about their lives… but they had given it to him - saying that they didn't need it even though Harry knew more than well how valuable that map must've been to them.

"Was this gift you received repaid?" the woman asked gently.

Harry bowed his head. Pass the pain of the thought that Fred had died… Harry remembered the end of his fourth year - after Cedric had died and he had won the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He had given his winnings to Fred and George, who had then built their joke shop… "It was," Harry whispered, realising that if he hadn't given that money, the Weasley Wizard Wheezes would've never happened. And if Fred and George hadn't given him the map… he wouldn't have given that money to them - by giving the map to him the twins had proven themselves fair and trustworthy and so Harry had trusted the money with them…

"So you see?" the woman smiled.

"But still --" Harry started to argue.

"If you are so adamant about this," the shop keeper chuckled. "Then look around the shop. If something catches your eye, buy it, and we'll call ourselves even, hm?"

"That doesn't fit your logic - or mine," Harry frowned a little but shook his head and glanced around the shop. He wanted to buy something expensive to make up for the lack of payment for the tablet, something which would perhaps cover the expenses… at first he looked at the expensive looking stones in the table, the crystal balls, and such… until his eyes landed on something underneath the tables, something nearly hidden underneath the tablecloth.

"Is that a…?" Harry stepped forward and kneeled to the floor. The woman looked at him now with sharp eyes as he pulled the table cloth up to reveal old, weathered trunk. It was made of hard, dark wood and had sturdy black metal binds - and very old brass lock. Running his hands over the lid in fascination, Harry found himself thinking back to his school trunk - trunk which had for seven years held all his worldly possessions in it. It wasn't quite as old-fashioned as this one, but it had come close.

"How much for this?" Harry asked while bowing his head to take a sniff of the hard wood. He had to close his eyes to stop the tears from assaulting them. The trunk smelled like the Dark Forest of Hogwarts.

"It's, uh… two and half hundred pounds," the woman said with a slight frown. "It's very old and hasn't been opened in years. I don't know what's inside of it; neither did the man who sold it to me…"

Harry took another breath of the trunk's scent, before looking up. "I'll take it."

-

The trunk remained unopened for over a week. The lock holding it tightly shut was too complicated to picked with a skeleton key and it was too old for locksmiths to understand - and most certainly too valuable to be broken, it's age alone made it precious. In the end Harry had to turn to magic - and that was what made it take so long. Without a wand, it took a great while to get simple _Alohomora_ to work.

When it finally did, when the trunk finally opened, Harry found it full of old, yellowed papers. The sight was disappointment to say at least, as the young wizard had been expecting something more exciting - something like the items in the shop from where he had bought the trunk from. Harry was even more disappointed when he read some of them and realised that they were notes of a university student from the beginning of them twentieth-century. He very nearly threw all the papers away without a second glance - until he saw one of the papers which had a familiar drawing in it.

It was one of the three gods from his tablet - Ra. Examining the paper more closely, Harry realised that who ever had made the notes had been studying Egyptology. Though Harry himself had studied the same subject to great lengths since gaining the tablet, he was too curious to throw the papers away anymore. So, he sat down and read.

Though the papers had no understandable order and had probably been dumped to the trunk just to be out of the way, Harry begun to quickly understand that who ever had written the notes wasn't just a student. There were takes of diary when the person had been travelling, notes from some archaeological digs… there were years' worth of notes about random things in the trunk, to Harry's delight they were mostly about Egypt. And what more, the person seemed to have some kind of interest towards magical things and religion - he or she had been anthropologist as well as Egyptologist.

It took months to read through all of the literally thousand pages of notes. In midst of studying, taking random classes and occasionally spending long hours in the library researching whatever subject he was interested about at the time, Harry read the notes. Not all of them were interesting, few were unreadable because of the damage they had suffered somewhere along the way, but most centred around the subject which interested Harry the most and made him wonder if it was a coincidence at all that he had bought the trunk.

Magic in ancient Egypt, the primary concern of all the notes, wasn't anything like Harry could remember from his History of Magic classes - it wasn't even what he remembered of Ron's, Hermione's and Bill's tales about it. There weren't strong curses protecting the tombs which would mutate any person trespassing… instead there were monsters. Apparently in this place, ancient wizards had been something of summoners who had commanded great beasts and used them to battle in enormous games.

The researcher, who ever it was, apparently had a sceptical opinion towards what he or she had documented. Even though the researcher had studied magical things like that, they hadn't believed in magic. Therefore they had theorised that the supposed monsters and great game of shadows was some king of widely popular game - maybe something like the Tarot which had roots in the ancient Egypt.

Harry, however, wasn't as sceptical. As a wizards desperately searching for magic in this apparently magic-deficient world, he found the game of monsters interesting and nearly plausible. The fact that he only found magical reaction in tablet of three Egyptian gods urged him onto believing that this ancient game of monsters and shadows might've really been real. With that he found himself with conclusion that once there _had _been magic here, magic slightly different from the magic he knew, but true magic nonetheless…

But what had happened to it? Had it been hidden somewhere in Egypt like magical world had been hidden in his world, or had it just vanished somewhere in distant past? With a new, harder determination than before Harry threw himself to his studies about Egypt, determined to find the magic he missed, even if he would only find it from the sands of history.

Eventually he found himself so immersed in the interested, that he covered the _freak_ tattoo in his back with a single large and very detailed Egyptian hieroglyph. He found it fitting not only because the letter was M - for magic - but also because that particular hieroglyph had the shape of an owl. It wasn't as good as the real thing, but it still felt like he had piece of his first friend with him again.

---

Another rather slow and boring chapter, but in next chapter should be more interesting - I hope anyway.

About the magic stuff here... I suppose that in the original Potter-verse, the muggle world is exact copy of our actual world, wicca and everything in it... yet they have never been mentioned in Potter-verse. I here exploit that and also I like to think that purebloods like Malfoy and such probably wouldn't have allowed "muggle magics" to ever be born - they would've considered them either "theft" or insult or something like that. So in this little alternate reality of this story, wicca and such didn't exist in Harry's original world and only magic muggles knew widely were tricks and such hocus pocus.

Already few have asked about pairings. I tend to leave my stories without pairings because I know some of those who read my stories don't like yaoi and I'm absolute rubbish in writing straight pairings... also pairings seem to have tendancy of handicapping my stories, for some reason. Just out of curiosity, what pairings would you wish to see in this story?

Thank you all for your reviews, and my apologies for possible errors


	6. VI chapter

**VI chapter**

It was strange to think that it had been over a year since Harry had arrived to this seemingly magicless reality. He had been so busy with studying and researching - and working after Aldwyn has offered him a part time job in the Education Counselling office - that flow of summer, fall, winter and spring had gone by in a flash.

It was somewhat shocking to realise that not only had time gone by fast but so had his studying. When his teachers begun to one by one tell him that he had learned all they could teach in the fields he had been studying, he could only wonder when had that happened. He was happy to let go of subjects such as Math, Geology, Biology, English and such, but he didn't consider himself fluent enough in Japanese, skilled enough in Asian healing arts and there was still so many things he didn't know about ancient Egypt…

Though he had found great many leads to older than ancient forms of magic, it all seemed to lead to and end in ancient Egypt. It made him believe that something that had happened in Egypt had somehow put an end to the magic of this world, something which had happened in those times thousands of years ago had shut the magic out. This fuelled his need to find out about those times even more.

But sadly, he hadn't been able to find more about Egyptian magic or the games of monsters and shadows. No history books had any information about it, and if he asked from experts they looked at him like he was a lunatic. No one believed that the games had existed at all, which was beginning to annoy and dishearten Harry. In his final attempt to gain information, he posted questions and appeals to various archaeology and Egyptology web-sites, hoping that even _one_ specialist would have the answers he sought. While doing so, he thanked gods of the fact that Aldwyn had taught him how to use computers.

So the summer begun. As the Educational office closed for the holidays, Harry applied to work in the library for the summer, which was easily granted after all the hours he had spent in the library for the last year. The librarians, who by now were close acquaintances to him, joked that he knew the history section of the library better than any of the librarians - which Harry couldn't exactly deny. In his search for magic, he had read through great part of the history books.

It was the library where his answers found him. Harry was working behind the library counter, going though the computer files of the books of Egyptian history to pass the time in a slow day, when an elder man walked in. He had a white hair and moustache and was dressed into dirty white suit - and at first Harry thought that he was one of the university professors who visited the library now and then.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for someone named Harry Potter…" the man said in clear American accent while holding up a printed copy of the interned appeal Harry had posted. "I tried to look for him in his apartment but the neighbour said that he'd be here working…"

"I'm Harry Potter," the young man answered with excitement. "You read my post?"

"About the shadow monster game of ancient Egypt? Yes," the man stepped forward and placed the print to the table. "My name is Arthur Hopkins, I'm an Egyptologist and most of my studies have circled around the questions you posted… I though I'd visit you while I'm here in England."

Harry nodded eagerly and glanced at the clock on the wall. "It's near the end of my shift. If you could wait for few minutes, we could leave and talk somewhere elsewhere. Libraries aren't exactly made for chatting."

"Sure," the old man said with a nod. "I'll be waiting for you in the lobby then."

As soon as the time came, Harry quickly picked his things from the staff room and headed lobby. "I know a great cafe near by, we could talk there," he said. The old archaeologist agreed and they made their way to the café where Harry ordered himself some tea while Mr Hopkins ordered coffee.

"What I could gather from your appeal was that you already know some things about the game the ancient Egyptians played," the Egyptologist said while stirring his coffee. "Which I found quite interesting as not very many know about these games - actually, I can count the people with the fingers of a single hand! So… I find myself curious as to how you know about these games."

"I bought a trunk which was full of notes and research papers of a person who was first a history student and later Egyptologist and archaeologist," Harry answered after taking a sip of his tea. "The person who wrote the notes apparently came to know about these games as well as they visited Egypt for various archaeological digs. I got interested about the games, but could find any information of them anywhere but in the notes…"

Hopkins looked at him with surprise. "You mean to say that you don't know about M&W?" the man asked. "I thought that your interest would spur from the game - all who know about the shadow games are interested because of game, I thought that you too…"

"Excuse me… what is M&W?" Harry asked with confusion.

"It's a card game," the Egyptologist answered, quickly rummaging through his pocket and pulling at a stack of cards with reddish brown back. "Magic and Wizards, often shortened to M&W it's a trading card game, it's highly popular all around the world. It's strange that you haven't countered it."

Harry blinked slowly. A game named _Magic _and_ Wizards_? And he had _missed_ it?! "What does that have to do with the shadow monster games?" he asked slowly even though he really wanted to ask more about the card game itself.

"I believe that M&W is a modern version of the shadow monster game," Hopkins explained while pulling out few cards displaying some kind of monsters. One of them looked very similar to the simple drawing there had been in the notes. "I've seen many of these monsters displayed in carvings on walls and pillars of Egyptian tombs and temples. From your expression I can see that you too are familiar with these."

"Yes, there were drawings in the notes…" Harry muttered while taking one of the cards and looking at it. Giant Soldier of Stone? The soldier in the card was in exact same position as the monster in the drawing. "So, someone made this game by basing it to the ancient shadow monster game?" he asked slowly. "And still no one knows about the ancient version of the game?"

"The card game was made before I begun to discover the ancient game," Hopkins shrugged. "When I presented the theory to the historical societies, they laughed me out of the building - to them the idea of ancient Egyptians playing a card game created just some years ago was ridiculous I suppose."

"Strange people," Harry muttered while frowning a little at the card. It wasn't as strong as with the tablet of the Three Gods, but the card had a tiniest charge of magic in it, making it just a little warm against his fingertips. "Could you tell me about the game?"

"Well, it's a game of monsters and magic…" Hopkins launched into explanation of the game, the various types of monster cards and large amount of spell cards - how you played by combining monsters and magic in various combinations and such. "Like said, it's very popular game. In many countries, they organize large duels were at best hundreds of people compete for the top position. The champions of these duels are considered the best of their countries, but so far there hasn't been a world wide champion ship games to decide who is the best duellist in the world…"

Harry examined the spell and trap cards the Egyptologist had placed down to the table so that he could look at them. The more he heard of the game, the more interested he became. It wasn't anywhere near the magic he knew, in fact it seemed more complicated. The various trap and spell cards made the magic he knew seem impossibly _simple_. If the game was really based in the game of monsters and shadows of the ancient Egypt… if these spells and trap cards had been actual magic back then…

Little dizzy with the implications opened before him, Harry looked up. "The person who created this game must've really known a lot about the ancient version of the game," he said slowly.

"It's possible. Pegasus Crawford was the one who created the game, he and is corporation Industrial Illusions," Hopkins leaned back with his arms folded. "He probably knows more about the game than I do, but so far he hasn't said anything of it. He has refused to talk to me, too."

"Hmm…" Harry leaned his chin to his palm while looking down to the cards. Looking up to the Egyptologist, he frowned thoughtfully. "Do you believe in magic, Mr Hopkins? Do you believe that in the times of ancient Egypt, they really had monsters and magic such as the one in this game?" he asked, motioning at the cards.

"Hmm... I guess I do," the old man said thoughtfully before chuckling and smiling. "But people have always considered me as an eccentric man."

"Then I'm just as eccentric," Harry smiled. "You said that you've seen carvings of these monsters in temples and tombs… could you tell me more?"

-

After their first meeting, Harry and Arthur Hopkins decided kept in touch through email and such. Whilst the old Egyptologist returned to US, Harry ventured to one of London's many game shops planning to buy few packets of M&W cards. He had no plans about playing, but he wanted to study the game - and via the card game understand the ancient version of it, if they really were connected. He was surprised to find that there were not only many different packets of the cards there were also several hand books and such about the playing.

After buying a manual for simple play and some cards, Harry returned home to study what he had bought. There he was faced with a slight surprise, when the first card of the first packet he opened was card named "Dark Lucius LV6". The monster in the card didn't look even remotely like the one Lucius Harry was familiar with it, but the name alone sent him to peals of laughter.

M&W ended up being even more fascinating than Harry had believed originally. It had little to do with the game itself, though, Harry was more interested about the numerous spell and trap cards in the game. Some of them were like attacks, some reminded him of actual spells and some had effects on monsters. There were shields and swords and all kind of weapons, barriers and protections, there were even spells to change the fields and with some you could do rituals to summon monsters.

Truly, if these spell cards had once been actual spells, actual magic, then… then the magic of this reality could've easily outdone the magic of his original reality. Very easily. And with the monsters thrown into the mix… but the _if_ remained. Harry had no real way to make certain if these spell cards had once had corresponding spells. No real way to figure out if they were recorded fact or fiction….

"No real way to figure out, what am I, an idiot?" he then asked out loud while feeling like brick wall would be a nice place to bang his head against. "No real way to figure out indeed. I'm a wizard, for Merlin's sake! Stupid Potter, fifty points from Gryffindor."

He had been trying to practice wandless magic since he had managed to open the trunk, but it was so incredibly hard. He couldn't really understand it. Apparating was so much easier here than it had been in his home world - black mist or not - but spells were very difficult. At first he had thought that it was because he didn't have a wand, but later he had begun to wonder if it was more than that. After _Alohomora_ he had tried simple spells like _Wingardium__Leviosa_ and _Lumos_, but with each try the spells got harder to achieve, until trying to levitate a pencil caused him to sweat bullets and gave him quite a head ache.

Sometimes it felt like magic was leaving him. It made no sense to him since Apparating happened these days without a thought. He had been wondering about the reason many, many times, he had even visited the Wicca shop countless times and bought quite many books and items for study, but hadn't been able to come up with solution.

Staring down to one spell card his not-quite-a-deck, he wondered if he could create a same magical effect as the card had in the game. The card felt magical in his hands - all the cards did - so it couldn't be as farfetched as it sounded like. Twiddling the card for a moment, he decided to try. But how? Should he say the card's name like it was a spell? He tried, but it didn't do anything. The words merely echoed in his small apartment empty and useless.

He knew that there was little bit of magic in the card - all the cards felt magical. With most magic he knew, one needed a catalyst - like wand - so… maybe he could use the card as a catalyst?

Closing his eyes, Harry held the card up. Trying to think that he was holding his own Holly wand instead of holding a simple card, he spoke the card's name as if it was a spell. "Rising Air Current," he said - and suddenly a great gust filled his room, blowing up from the floor and towards the ceiling. Crying with surprise, Harry let go of the card, which ended the wind as abruptly as he had managed to start it.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, staring at the innocent card now lying in the floor. His room was suddenly a mess and the cards he had been studying were floating down from the ceiling like cardboard rain. The magic had certainly taken effect and it had done so with frightening ease.

It still made no sense. Why was Apparating so easy, why was the magic of these cards so easy, when he was almost completely unable to use the spells he was familiar with? After the Raising Air Current incident Harry spend long hours wondering about, but could not find an answer.

Then he began to wonder. Each time he tried to use the magic he could remember from his home world, it got harder and more taxing - and it felt like the magic was leaving him. What if it was? What if when he had came to this world little bit of his original magic had followed him? He was using that magic out in these few spells, and soon there would be none left to be used.

But what of Apparating? It was so ridiculously easy but also very different from what he knew. Before Harry had never given any thought of what there was between Disapparition and Apparition, but here he thought it nearly every time he Apparated because of the new side effect of that particular bit of magic. There was something between Disapparition and Apparition here, some kind of space filled with black mist. Maybe… maybe that place somehow enabled it all.

The magic in the tablet and the cards, when he thought about it, they felt the same as apparition. And the Rising Air Current had been just as easy as Apparition was here. Maybe the magic in those things were the same as the one he used to Apparate here? And if the magic he used to Apparate was from that space between Disapparition and Apparition, then… it was the same for the magic in the cards and in the tablet? The space with black mist… was it the source of the magic here, or was it where the magic had been locked away to?

For a moment Harry was tempted to try and Disapparate without Apparating, trying to stop in the middle and stay a bit longer in that space. But then he felt a shiver creep up his spine. It could be that the space was the source of magic here, but what if he would Disapparate there and then be unable to Apparate out? Locked away somewhere between here and there… it was frightening thought.

Trying not to think about it for now, Harry turned back to the cards and decided that he needed to learn more about the Egyptian magic before he would do anymore testing. The Rising Air Current had made a mess out of his room, and it was just a field type spell card. If he was to tread down this path, he needed to do it with caution.

---

I'm gonna go without pairings in this one, so no need to talk more about that. I'll be also going to a break of sorts, so there might be another month before you can expect another chapter. Thank you all very much for your comments and my apologies for possible mistakes.

edit: in the manga the game was originally called Magic and Wizards. I decided to go with that instead of usual Duel Monsters because I'm mostly going with the manga (though I will be taking elements from the anime as well) and because the name Magic and Wizards holds a little more appeal to harry than Duel Monsters


	7. VII chapter

**VII chapter**

Harry drummed the table with his fingers, thinking intensely. Most of his summer had gone thinking about the subject of card magic and the mystery of Apparition and the tablet of Three Gods. Unable to really try - not daring to because of the risks - he hadn't gotten any closer to either understanding or mastering the magic of this world. All he really had was theories over theories.

And the facts were scarce. One, magic somehow was external here and people had no inner magic - he had no magic of his own. Whether the magic came from the space between Disapparition and Apparition he wasn't sure, but that was one of his theories. Second fact was that he couldn't find any plausible magic in the history since about three thousand years ago. Before that there had been magic everywhere from China to America, from Scandinavia to Africa, but after… there had only been memory and make-belief. Magic had ended, as far as he could tell, in Egypt about thousand or so years before Christ. And last bits of magic in Egypt had been the games of shadows and monsters.

Last but not least was Pegasus Crawford. The president of Industrial Illusions had created the 'Magic and Wizards' card game, game which had its foundations and base in the ancient magic game of Egypt. So, this American game-creator knew the ancient game - he knew it very well since he created such a successful game out of it

But that - none of these facts - helped Harry at all. Even though he had inkling as to where magic came from, it was no use when he didn't dare to try. As for Pegasus… the man was known for being a hard-to-get-to kind of person. You could see him all the time everywhere - in the net, in the papers, in the television… but when it came to contacting the man, it was near impossible. Unless you were either rich, famous or one hell of a duellist, you had no chance of getting near the man.

"I need to know more… but I think I've done all I can in this place," he muttered. The library had no new facts to offer and the internet was pitifully lacking when it came to this subject. That only left Arthur Hopkins. Snapping his fingers, Harry turned to his computer and quickly logged in. After second or few of thinking he quickly wrote his problem down along with his hopes that Hopkins would have something new in his hands.

The answer came few hours later, and it was simple. "Seems to me like you need a trip to Egypt, my young friend." The old archaeologist suggested that he would go and see all the places from where the little bits of information had been found. The best knowledge had been erased by time and accidents, but there was still clues hidden in the widely known sights, even in tourist attractions there were hints.

Harry was dimly aware of the fact that had he been anyone else, he would've maybe hesitated at least a little bit - and that it was unusual for someone to suggest something like that so suddenly, as Hopkins had done. People don't just get up and decide to leave the country in not only single day but single quarter of an hour. However, he was Harry Potter - the man who already as a boy had been ready to charge head first to nearest trouble. With history like his, leaving the country in hopes of finding some information was nothing. It actually made him feel more at home than anything had before in this magicless world, reverting back to his old act-first-think-later act.

So, he decided to head to Egypt.

-

Harry could remember what Ron had told him after the Weasleys had taken their trip to Egypt to see the eldest of the Weasley children. It had all sounded so exciting and exotic when Ron had excitedly told his stories of Egypt - of the pyramids and curses laid down by ancient Egyptian wizards… Real Egypt in this place was less interesting. It was sandy, it was hot, and it was full of people. Tourists seemed to fill every corner of it.

There was number of places Arthur Hawkins had told Harry about. Some were random temples here and there with small mentions, and one ruined city, but the main site was the Valley of the Kings. "That's where I concluded my theory," the elder man told in an email. "That's where I found most of the evidence. That, I think, is where you should go as well."

The Valley of the Kings was a bit of a disappointment even as it broke through all Harry's expectations. The place was a tourist attraction. Not as much as the pyramids of Giza, apparently, but there were still lot tourists there. Thankfully they gravitated around the more famous and well preserved sights, giving Harry blessed privacy as he checked the places Arthur had told him about.

The hints were annoyingly small and almost hidden. In a tomb where walls would be covered in hieroglyphs and pictographs detailing the selected pharaoh's life, there would be some random glyphs around some random pillar that showed the monsters of the game. Even so, they were more than enough. Because even as everything else in the said tomb was just broken limestone and adobe, those small glyphs _glowed_ with magic.

"If there is such thing as black glow, that is," Harry murmured while kneeling in the sandy floor, beside the pillar. Cautiously he trailed his fingers over the glyph which detailed one of the many magicians of the M&W game. The dark, eerie glow he could see felt warm against is fingertips, glowing same sort of warmth as the tablet of the three gods - except, it was slightly different. Sturdier somehow, thicker. As he pulled his fingers away, the black glow stuck to them for a moment like some sort of residue, before fading away.

"It's almost like the mist that surrounds me when I… Apparate," he mused, rubbing his chin. He grimaced slightly at the stubbly feel of it - in the hassle of getting to Cairo and finding a way to get from there down to Valley of the Kings he hadn't had the time shave - or wash up properly. In place like this, where everyone seemed to be covered in layer of sweat and sand, it didn't really matter though.

Scratching the stubble absently, he made mental connections. He had suspected it before, but this pretty much proved it. His apparition - if it could be called such - was linked with the ancient game magic. The ancient magic was called Shadow Magic in some texts Arthur had shared with him. Maybe the black mist was the reason it had been called such?

The name had always worried him slight, though. Dark was considered bad in his world, and here the last of magic was labelled with Shadow. Even as he longed for the day he could actually understand and maybe even use the magic of this world, he dreaded it. What if it would be like Dark Arts? There was no way he would be able to use it then.

Harry checked all the places Arthur had told him about, but none of them offered him any more information or insight. Trying to look for something more in hopes of getting more out of his foolish quest to Egypt, he eventually found himself walking through a poor, shabby village. The place seemed like something out of those old movies that were in way or another about Egypt, but something was wrong. Very wrong.

The entire place seemed to faintly glow with that same black shade as the glyphs glowed. However, unlike with the glyphs, here the glow was cold and eerie. _It's different,_ Harry frowned, crouching to the ground and placing his palm against the cold black glow. _Backwards somehow. The glyphs didn't feel just warm, they felt full. This place is cold and empty somehow. Like something was… taken…_ he looked up. _But an entire village?_

Thoughtfully, he grabbed some sand to his hand and let it slowly slip between his fingers. _This place looks old. Sort of like the ruins… maybe this place is old enough to be from the time before magic was sealed off. Maybe this place is somehow like Hogsmeade. It was magical and when the magic was taken…_

No. It was something more and less, but his mind couldn't make sense of it. With a sigh he brushed his hands clean, deciding to look around the village to see if he would find out something more. As he started to stand up, he felt as if someone was looking - and then a cold shadow fell over him.

Looking up cautiously, he saw a young Egyptian man dressed into white cloak and turban. Even before Harry's mind caught up with his eyes, he could see the cold glow around the man. The young man's eyes shone with that same cold power, and in his chest…

Harry winced slightly at the sight of the item. It was one of those Egyptian crosses, Ankh… but it was more. Magical. But unlike with the glyphs and this shabby village, the Ankh glowed with golden light. And somehow it was so much worse than the black light.

"You can see it, can't you?" the young Egyptian asked in accented but otherwise perfect English. "You can see the power. You can feel it."

Harry narrowed his eyes and slowly stood up. For some reason the very presence of the Egyptian made him cautious. Just some days ago he would've jumped at the thought of meeting something akin to magician in this world, but something in this one was wrong. There was magic in the young Egyptian, as much was obvious. But it wasn't magic Harry wanted to deal with.

"I can," he finally answered, not taking he eyes of the Egyptian magician. "I can see it in you too. You're wrong. You're…" the young man felt familiar in horrible manner. As it clicked in Harry's head, he nearly took a step back. "You're not supposed to be here."

"I am," the Egyptian answered without looking surprised in a least. "I have duty to perform. For as long as the duty remains, so shall I."

"Duty?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"To the pharaoh."

Harry blinked. _This guy is a servant of some pharaoh? As far as I know, all the pharaohs of this world are dead… but this guy still serves one of them? Then I was right, who ever this guy is, he's long since dead himself. He doesn't seem like the ghosts from back home, though._

He glanced around to see if the other people in the village could see the young man. None of them were looking at his direction. Turning back to look at the cold eyed dead-man, he narrowed his eyes. "What happened to this place?" he nodded towards the black glow surrounding the village, suspecting that the ghost could see it too.

"That, I cannot tell," the young man seemed a bit agitated about that. It wasn't that he didn't want to tell; he didn't know. The ghost was quiet for a moment as if waiting Harry to talk again, before talking himself. "You're not from this world."

As sudden as the question was, somehow it didn't surprise Harry at all. It made sense that if he could sense something of the ghost, the ghost could sense something of him. "What gave you that idea?"

"You're different," the ghost said flatly. "You have power _in_ you, in way no human on this earth has. You have not been born under the Seal. You have… power of your own."

"Seal?" Harry asked sharply. "So I am right, the magic of this world has been sealed. Why?"

"To lock away something that the magic brought forth, something that could not be defeated otherwise," the ghost seemed thoughtful before turning around. "Follow me."

Harry followed cautiously and suspiciously. The Egyptian ghost led him through the shabby village and into one of the buildings. There Harry was taken down a hidden staircase and into… a temple lit by torches. He nearly gasped at the sight and feel of the place. It wasn't like the temples and tombs he had seen so far. This place was far from being ruined - actually, it looked like it had been just recently built. But what shocked him was not just that, but the power running over the walls, floor and ceiling. The entire place was somehow magical.

"What is this place?" Harry asked quietly. He was ignored as the ghost walked down the steps and to an altar of sorts. Cautiously the black haired wizard followed to see that the altar was stone tablet of sorts. There were slots for items in it - seven items by the look of it. Two slots were filled - one by a golden ring that reminded Harry vaguely of Dream Catchers and other by golden scales. And one slot apparently belonged to the Ankh that was around the ghost's neck.

Harry was forced to look away from the tablet. The power surrounding it was too strong - and too horrible - for him to look at. The ghost seemed to notice it, but said nothing to it. "These are the Millennium Items," the Egyptian spoke. "I have guarded these for eons as I have watched over the sacred tombs of Egypt - as I've watched how those tombs were defiled… It has been my duty to keep these for those who were prophesied to come."

_Ugh, prophesies,_ Harry thought with distaste while glancing at the tablet. "Seems to me like you're missing a few."

"One of them was hidden in another place, to wait for its destiny there," the ghost touched the triangle slot in the stone. "Two of them were handed down to other keepers of the graves… and one of them I have handed on to its rightful, destined possessor."

"And… what does the prophesy say?" Harry asked, glancing the tablet with mild distaste.

"It prophesies the return of the Nameless pharaoh, the gathering of his new priests… and a magician who comes from another world," the ghost looked at him.

Harry met the spirit's cold eyes with a flat look. "Me?" _I'm going to be saddled with another prophesy? What am I, some sort of Fate's spittoon? Wait, does that mean… _"You mean I came to this place purposefully? It wasn't just magical freak accident?" he had tried not to think about it, but when ever he had, it had never made sense. Why hadn't he died instead of coming to this place and into this body that wasn't originally his? And why this place?

"I believe so," the ghost looked at him seriously. "You were magician in your world, weren't you? You were born as one and as such you had magic of your own. In this world magic relies always on something from time before the Seal. On these Items, for example. We do not have magic of our own," he narrowed his eyes. "And one day, if we will get magic for ourselves… we won't know what to do with it."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked cautiously.

"The Seal that holds back magic will one day be broken," the ghost sounded strangely relieved at the thought. "Magic will return. That day will either throw the world into chaos or new age. It has been prophesied. Seven people have the power to decide which turn the world will take, and you… are one of them."

Harry took a quick step back as the Egyptian spirit took of the Ankh that was around his neck. Then the ghost was handing it to him. "No way," the black haired wizard spoke. "I'm not touching that thing. That thing is _wrong_."

"If you are truly the one who is meant to have it, you will have it. There is nothing you can do that could prevent this fate, if it truly is your fate," the spirit spoke. "You can take this destiny willingly and master it, or you can fight it and be controlled by it. The choice is yours."

Harry frowned. "And if I take it, what will happen?"

"You will find out what you're looking for," the spirit said. "Your quest is that of knowledge. You wish to learn the magic of this world as you learned the magic of your world. If you take the Key, you will learn and master the Shadow Magic."

"And then what?"

"Then you will teach it to six others who hold or will hold an Item such as yours. Together you seven will shape the future of this world."

Harry hesitated, looking at the key. It glinted golden in the light of the torches, and the glint was in no way pretty to his eyes. For a moment he was sure that if he would touch it, he would burn and freeze his hand simultaneously. But even as his mind screamed against taking the Item, part of him longed for it. There was power in the Ankh. Power he had been looking for for a year now. Power that could answer his questions - key to unlocking the secrets, indeed.

"There's more to it, isn't there?" he asked. "More to these Items. Something cold and dark. It has something to do with this place, and why it feels so wrong."

"Probably, but it was never my duty to know. My duty is to keep," the ghost answered, still holding the Key up for him to take. "Your duty will be to know."

Harry hesitated still. _If I take the Key, I have a feeling that I can't let go of it - can't turn back from it. But if I don't take it, I know I will end up regretting it for the rest of my life. The Key will maybe lead me to the knowledge I am seeking. There will be a price, I know there will be… and that worries me. Yet… No pain no gain, huh?_

_In for a Knut, in for a Galleon,_ he sighed, and took the Key.

---

Sorry for taking forever, but at least I wrote something finally. I now have a outline of the future plot, so hopefully I'll be able to write more often. From here on I will start changing the original elements of the Yugioh world to suit my plans better, but this has been AU from the start so that's nothing too surprising. Hopefully I'll have another chapter for you guys soon, sorry for possible mistakes and thank your for putting up with my lazy ass.


	8. VIII chapter

**VIII chapter**

Harry peered up to the sky while brushing the droplets of sweat from his forehead. He had been in Egypt for some weeks now - four or five - and it seemed like it was only getting hotter in the place. His English physique did not enjoy the weather of the desert all that much. He was always sweaty, no matter what he wore and it seemed like he was always sandy as well. Every time he attempted to brush his hair, he could feel sand grinding against his scalp.

But it couldn't be helped. The discomfort of the place was small price to pay for what he has gained in the desert. The Millennium Key was just the beginning of it. After the Key had accepted him as its rightful possessor, Shadi - the creepy Egyptian ghost - had allowed him passage to all the secret chambers underneath the shabby little village of Kul Elna. In those chambers laid hidden the secrets from time before the Seal - or at least the secrets that were left from that time. In countless tablets, wall carvings, statues and precious scrolls of papyrus, Shadi had kept the nearly forgotten magic of ancient Egypt.

It wasn't like Harry could understand them all. He had only studied hieroglyphs for year or so, he was no where near skilled enough to understand them perfectly. And Shadi was no help - according to his own words, it wasn't his duty to teach. The ghost came and went without word or explanation, usually leaving Harry alone into the secret temple. And trying to puzzle his way through the ancient knowledge alone usually only managed to confuse Harry, rather than offer him any real understanding.

The Millennium Key helped some, though. Shadi had been kind enough to explain a thing or two about the Items, and that way Harry had begun to slowly understand the magic of this world. It was heavily soul based. Harry wasn't sure where magic originated from in his world, maybe from some inner magical core wizards and witches had or possibly some invisible world wide grid of magic, but here it had all to do with human soul. Everything began and ended with the soul. Even the monsters ancient magicians were able to use were pieces of someone's soul.

Harry sighed as he leaned against a wall of a house that collapsed long, long time ago. Shadi was again off to somewhere to oversee some archaeological dig - and no doubt curse few people there for defiling the sacred graves. The magician himself was taking a break from his attempts of translating and studying - it had, not for the first time, started to give him a headache. Sadly, being out of the temple didn't help him at all - the glaring sun and the heat only made the pounding of his head worse.

The whole Shadow Magic thing had started to worry him. Idea of soul based power such as Shadow Magic reminded him of Voldemort and the Horcruxes. Was Shadow Magic like that? You had to defile your very soul with disgusting deeds to use it? He didn't like that idea at all.

With a grim expression, he pulled out the Millennium Key. Unlike Shadi, he didn't wear it around his neck. Instead he had attached it with a chain to his pants and had it always in his pocket. Shadi didn't seem to approve, but there was no way Harry would've worn something as big and flashy in a way everyone could see it. Especially not in village mostly inhabited by thieves and robbers such as Kul Elna. Besides, it was Key. Didn't one usually keep one's keys in one's pocket?

Harry frowned. Only after the Key had accepted him as its master Shadi had told him that if he hadn't been the one for the Key, the key would've burned him to death. "The Millennium Items test their possessors - and burn those unworthy, down to the very soul," the spirit had told him. Harry had nothing to worry about since the Key had accepted him, but he still would've rather known that little bit of information before he had taken the Key.

Another thing Shadi had bothered to tell him was how to use the Key. The Key's power was unlock the doors to people's souls. As in Harry could literally take a walk in someone's soul, now that he had the key. The idea of being in possession of such power was mildly worrying, but it was too late for him to turn back.

With a sigh he pushed the Key back to his pocket before standing up. He wouldn't get anywhere with his attempts of translating the temple's knowledge by sitting around doing nothing. Besides, at least the temple was somewhat cool, being under ground.

-

It took time, patience, brain cells and many visits to nearest towns - and their bookshops - to translate even half of the temple's knowledge. Once Harry finally realised that he would need some books to help him, he started to get finally somewhere. There were still parts - large parts - he couldn't translate which were written in dialects he couldn't yet decipher. But even so, he was happy of the progress he had made.

He learned more about the soul magic and how it really worked. He had never really thought of how soul really worked before. Back in his home world soul had been something semi-mysterious in every human that left the body upon death and went somewhere. In ancient Egypt the soul was quite bit more complicated than that.

For one, Egyptian soul had five parts: Ib, Sheut, Ren, Ba and Ka. Ib, person's heart was most important part, being not only the source of emotion but also thought, will and intention. Sheut, person's shadow, was something that was always present and without which a person could not exist. Ren, the name of a person, was given to them at birth and it was believed that as long as the name remained, the person would live in one form or another. Ba, the individual personality, was the part of Egyptian soul most similar to the concept of soul Harry was familiar with - the part that remained in a way living after death. And finally there was Ka, the life force sustained by food and drink, which separates the living and the dead as death occurs only after Ka had left the body.

Shadow Monsters were created from these parts, but there was number of ways to create them.

The weakest monsters came from Ib, surprisingly enough. The hate, pain and fear - usual darkness that may reside in person's soul - gathered into the heart. Hardships and pressure could strengthen the darkness. If it gathered enough and the person turned dark enough, the darkness could be forcibly extracted. Or it could be in the ancient times. Once this darkness was extracted, it was contained into stone tablets or glyphs. Some of those could be used by summoners and such.

Some people, very rare and special according to the writings, were born with powerful spirits residing in their souls. The texts didn't specify portion of the soul these creatures belong into, giving Harry the impression that they simply couldn't explain it at all. Some of the most powerful shadow monsters were of this kind… But as the use of these creatures required the death of the original host, the price for such summon was high.

Finally, there were the shadow monsters which were intentionally made. Only magicians could intentionally make a shadow monster in this manner, and it usually ended with the magician's death. By combining the Ba and the Ka of their own soul, they could create a monster of their own making - but it came with a price. If one forced Ba and Ka to combine like that… they would never reach the afterlife like other people did. Instead they would remain forever in this world as Shadow Monsters.

The shadow monsters weren't the only way the ancient Egyptian soul magic worked, though. It was also used in manner somewhat similar to that Harry knew of - in spells. There were hundreds of different spells recorded in Shadi's hidden temple, all for various purposes, and all with a risk. They all required the use of person's life force, Ka. Some spells took little bit of it, other spells took more, and if you used the Ka out… you died.

As Harry begun to realise just how serious the Egyptian magic had been, he began to wonder the magic of his world even more. Back home he had never heard of anything like using one's magic out. There hadn't been a source of magic such as Ka back there. If anything magic back home had seemed like muscle. The more you used it, the better you got at it. If you over used it, you might get exhausted, but that's about it. In comparison to the Ka based magic, his home world's magic seemed so… safe and ordinary.

When he thought about it, rare people in his world respected magic. The witches and wizards Harry had known all saw magic as privilege and right, but in the end it was every day thing which they used in every day way. Part of their life just like their limbs, part of them. Some appreciated magic more than others, many preferred it to being without it, but respect it?

"I wonder if people back home would've used magic it wash and clean if over using it would've killed them," Harry mused to himself. When he thought about it, there were many charms that weren't exactly necessary. One could wash and clean and fix things just as well by hand - some things anyway. If you had a lamp, what you needed Lumos for? But in his world it had been easy. In his world, magic had been endless.

Here he needed to be cautious. He had translated great amount of the spells - and found quite many useful ones - but he didn't dare to practice them. Ka could be sustained and recovered with nourishment, but even so he didn't want to risk it - it was his life in the line, after all. And there was something which confused him. One aspect in this weird magic he needed to study more closely before he would be able to use it at all anyway.

It was the cards. M&W cards and more specially the one magic card he had once used. As far as he could understand, the Ka-based magic was fairly difficult and required concentration - and one could always feel the effect of the Ka being drained in result of using those spells. Yet that one time he had tried the card… he hadn't felt anything.

Another thing was his ability to sense the magic of this world - or it's residue anyway. He hadn't had such powers before, but here he seemed almost hyper sensitive to all smallest tingles of magic. The M&W cards, the tablet of Tree Gods, Kul Elna, the Millennium Items... the more he encountered, the easier they were to sense and now even see. Shadi too. The egyptian man was no ordinary ghost, he didn't appear even remotely ghost like, but Harry had known from the beginning that the man wasn't alive anymore.

And finally, there was his Apparition. He knew that he didn't use any portion of his soul to do that. That, he believed, was powered by the space between Apparition and Disapparition, the place which was here filled with black mist. But how was _that_ possible, when magic was sealed off in this world?

The more he learned about the ancient magic, the less it made sense.

-

Harry had been living - more or less - in Kul Elna for half a year, when Shadi decided that Harry had learned enough. The magician - no longer able to consider himself wizard he had once been - tended to disagree. He had translated most of the temple's writings, yes, but not all of them. And he still had questions that had no answers.

"You won't find your answers here," Shadi said to him as Harry stood by the stone tabled that was supposed to contain the Millennium Items. "And you have a duty perform."

"I'm to start teaching now? I've barely mastered any of this!" Harry motioned wildly towards the pillars, which were covered in complicated carvings. "How am I supposed to teach something I don't completely understand myself?"

"It will come to you when the time is right," Shadi assured coolly while taking out a map. "I suggest you go here next," the ghost motioned at a small town on the map. "The other grave keeper family, the Ishtars, live there. The last blood survivors of the family both carry the Millennium Items. The girl has the Tauk and the boy has the Rod."

"Hm?" Harry took the map curiously, long since adjusted to the fact that despite being ghost, Shadi could touch and affect physical things. "It's pretty far from here…" he murmured with dismay. And by the looks of it, the place was so small that it would be difficult finding transportation.

"Then I suggest you get going as soon as you can."

The black haired magician glanced up. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you don't like me much, Shadi," he said and then chuckled at the flat look the spirit gave him. "Fine fine, I'll get going as soon as I've packed my things. But before I get to packing, tell me. Do you know where the other two Items are? You have two here; I have one; Ishtars have two… so two are missing, right? Do you know where they are?"

"I do not know where the Millennium Puzzle is, its location was never disclosed to me when it was hidden all those years ago. Whether it has been found or not, whether it is still in hidden or not, I do not know," the spirit shook his head. "But the Millennium Eye is in United States of America. Its owner goes by the name of Pegasus Crawford."

Harry blinked sharply. "Pegasus? The same guy who invented M&W, the game?" Shadi didn't answer, but he didn't need to. "Hm. That makes sense. As Item holder he _would_ know quite bit about the Shadow Games." Harry looked down to the map. "Alright. I'll go check the Ishtars out and after that I'll head to America. I've wanted to meet that Pegasus guy…"

-

The trip from Kul Elna was far from comfortable, but it wasn't exactly discomforting. Living in the village filled with robbers had been educating in more ways than one, and Harry had gotten adjusted to not expect luxuries in the desert. And he knew that any ride was better than no ride at all. So though the small, overcrowded buss was no Hogwarts Express, he was thankful.

After spending time in Kul Elna, Harry had worried that this other town would be like it. In Kul Elna there had been barely enough water to go around, not to even mention about proper food. His relief was great when he saw that the place was bigger and with larger population. There was also hotel in the town, and Harry wasn't forced to sleep where-ever like in Kul Elna. The hotel also had running water - which meant that he could actually bathe. For the first time in six months, Harry's ever growing black hair was free of sand and he could finally cleanly shave his chin. He hadn't really thought of it before, but being clean was something to be happy about indeed.

His happiness was quick to fade as he tried and failed in finding the Ishtars anywhere in the town no matter how he searched and asked. As far as Harry could gather, no one had ever heard the name in the town - which was strange, since Shadi had given him the impression that the Ishtar family had been living there for a very long time. After week or searching without finding anything, Harry begun to wonder if the Ishtars lived underground like Shadi - though Shadi didn't actually live anywhere. It could maybe explain why no one knew about them, but it helped him little. It wasn't like he could go and check every house in the town in search for some hidden underground temple.

It was Harry's eight day in the town, when he finally saw what he was looking for - or at least thought he did. He was having a breakfast in his hotel's simple terrace, watching the people crowding the small market place, when his eyes settled on one young woman. She was clearly local with her dark skin and black hair, but though she possessed that exotic Egyptian beauty, Harry's eyes didn't see her. They saw the necklace around her neck - and the hard golden glow surrounding it.

Just as he was about to stand and follow her before the woman could get out of his sight, she stopped walking and turned to look directly at him. Harry stopped at the look in her eyes. She was looking at him, but for some reason Harry was sure it wasn't him she was seeing.

Almost by itself, his hand went to his pocket. Slowly he pulled out the Millennium Key and held it for her to see. She took it in, seemed to think about it, before starting to walk towards him. Not knowing what else to do, Harry sat back down to his table to wait.

The woman stepped up to the terrace and then walked over it to him. "I had a feeling that I would meet someone today," the young woman said with surprisingly - or not so surprisingly - calm voice while stepping closer. For a local, her English was surprisingly good. "But I didn't think it would be one such as you."

"One such as me?" Harry asked while motioning her to sit down - it was only polite. "Would you like something, drink perhaps?"

"I'm fine," she smiled slightly. "And I have a feeling that you know what I mean, _magician_. I have seen your kind in my visions occasionally, ever since…" she raised her slender fingers to touch the necklace before lowering her hand. "…but I did not think one such as you could be possible. Not as we live under the Seal."

"Ah, of course," Harry nodded to himself. As the holder of the Millenium Tauk she would have visions of the future - that was the Tauk's power. He was mildly surprised that the woman knew about the Seal and its effect, though. The people of this world couldn't use magic like he could - not even the ancient Egyptian magic - because of the Seal. They could, at best, use items such as the Millennium Items, but that didn't make them magicians. "You know much about the Seal. I shouldn't be surprised, if you are whom I think you are."

"You know of the family I come from," the woman didn't seem surprised.

"I've heard of you," Harry admitted. With a smile, he held up his right hand. "My name is Harry Potter."

She took it. "Ishizu Ishtar. It's a pleasure to meet you." After shaking his hand, she lowered her hand to her lap. "You were looking for me, I presume?"

"You and your brother, yes," Harry patted his pocket where the Millennium Key was. "I was given a duty of sorts and apparently I must start it by checking you two out."

Ishizu narrowed her eyes. "What do we have to do with your duties?" she asked in soft tone that held steely sharpness. "We, as Grave Keepers, have duties of our own to perform. Your involvement is not only unneeded but it might be a distraction."

Harry blinked with mild surprise. _Quick turn to hostile. I have feeling these people don't like strangers butting to their business._ "I have no intention of getting involved with your _duties_. I'm not saying that I know much about this - I was only saddled with the Key and the so called duty about half a year ago, and I'm still trying to figure out the implications. My duties, in any case, are with _you_."

She looked at him flatly.

"I'm supposed to teach you. Somehow," Harry shrugged. "At least that's what I was told. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to teach you, though. Even if you have Items of your own, you cannot use the powers I'm possibly supposed to teach you - not yet, anyway."

"Not yet?"

"The Seal is prophesied to break one day, or so I was told," Harry shrugged. "I'm supposed to prepare the other Item holders for that day - and you and your brother are among them. I'm sure as a seer and as a Grave Keeper you know of this prophesy."

She hesitated, before nodding. "The pharaoh and his new court will come together, and the Seal shall be broken…" Ishizu frowned slightly. "The time is at hand, then? I didn't think it would be this soon. My brother is only thirteen."

"I don't think the time's here yet. The one who told me wasn't too open about it all, but…" The magician grimaced at the memory of Shadi. "But he didn't seem to be in too much of a hurry. What will happen, will happen in its due time, and all that. Besides, two of the items are still without their rightful owners." He hesitated and glanced up to the woman. "And I'm sure that if the time would be at hand, we would know. At least _you_ would."

"Yes, I do not think the Tauk would fail to inform me of such future if it would be so near," the young woman seemed mildly relieved - she even seemed to relax in her seat slightly. "So you are here merely to take a look at your future students, then?"

"Yeah. I was told that I should." Harry looked at Ishizu thoughtfully the young woman frowned. She too seemed to be deep in thought - troubled even. "Is something wrong?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. "There's a specific reason why I'm here, isn't there? And you know it."

She glanced up and smiled. "Does that Key give you the power to see into people's minds?"

"I can take a walk in their souls if I want to, but no. I can't see into your mind without making an actual effort," Harry raised his eyebrows. "Will you tell me what's wrong? Maybe I can help."

Ishizu's smile turned slightly morose - as if she doubted his words. "It's my brother," she then said. "There is something… wrong… with him."

---

Okay, the whole magic thing is getting a bit complicated, but... I don't care. Magic seems to be the centre of this story anyway. I'll add "Adventure" as genre too, since it seems that this story is heading to that direction...


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